


Destiny's Pawn: Tatooine

by Allronix



Series: Star Wars: Destiny of the Old Republic [8]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, Empath, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sensitivity, Found Family, Light-Side Ending (Star Wars), Novelization, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allronix/pseuds/Allronix
Summary: The crew's quest for the fabled Star Maps brings them to Tatooine, a sandy planet where old hatreds and unfinished business blaze like the double suns. While they all have a tentative agreement to work with each other for the sake of the mission, they are far from unified and have many enemies seeking to take advantage of their discord.
Relationships: Carth Onasi/Female Revan
Series: Star Wars: Destiny of the Old Republic [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1362046
Comments: 17
Kudos: 13
Collections: Star Wars Fanfiction Discord





	1. Tatooine Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Milksapphire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milksapphire/gifts), [iftheshoefits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iftheshoefits/gifts), [Recyclops9000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recyclops9000/gifts), [Aud_McCartney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aud_McCartney/gifts), [ShadowSpark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowSpark/gifts), [Altruistic_Computer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altruistic_Computer/gifts).



**SWKOTR: Destiny’s Pawn**

**Book 3: Tatooine**

**Tatooine Vision**

_It waited for them deep in a cave, amid the infinite and frightening mass of sand drifts. Malak had opted for lighter robes, but Revan wore concealing ones to mimic the natives here. To the local tribes, an accidental show of skin was punishable by exile and a slow death by the unforgiving desert._

_"Their warriors could not stand against us," Malak said. "And you did what you must—showed them your superior strength. Czerka had been correct in calling them nothing but animals."_

_From underneath the hood, Revan's head shook. No other words as they continued._

_"You believe this Star Forge will be enough?" he asked. "You claimed its power would insure no one would attack the Republic ever again. No army could ever stand against its might."_

_Revan waved a gloved hand and the sands shifted, revealing the buried remains of a temple, crumbled so that what was once a wall was now little than a sand-encrusted pile with a hole in its side. They entered the darkness._

_Bones from unlucky grave robbers littered the path as they walked forward. The inscriptions on the walls had been blasted away by the blowing sand. Statues and statue pieces were scattered and broken on the floor or against the walls, all features other then the vague shapes blasted away like the temple's writing._

_The evil-looking black spires, the tripod on tripod design… as soon as Revan touched it, the Star Map opened for them, blazing to life in its pattern of colors…_


	2. Anchorhead

**Chapter 1**

**Anchorhead**

In the _Ebon Hawk’s_ armory, Canderous cleaned his blaster cannon and did most of the talking. Mission was tinkering with the vibration cell in her blade, and Kairi was kneeling by T3-M4, checking the little droid’s power distribution and performing other routine diagnostics.

“My finest victory came in one battle above the world of Althir. My unit managed to defeat a force of Altheri ten times our own numbers."

Mission whistled. “Sounds like a nasty fight.”

“It was,” he said. Clearing his throat, he went back to the tale. “For five days, they managed to hold off our forces, keeping us to the outer rings of their world, preventing us from attacking it directly. My task was to assault one of their flanks with a false attack. The Altheri would be drawn out by the units I had sent in. Once they had surrounded those forces, the bulk of the fleet would attack from the rear and defeat them in detail."

"Did it work?"

"Things didn't go as planned. I saw a mistake they'd made in the disposition of their forces. In fending off our attack, they'd left the command ships wide open. I immediately turned my forces and assaulted the center of the fleet, decimating them! Their slow, ponderous warships could not turn to face us without being overwhelmed. The command ships were destroyed in seconds, their ranks thrown into chaos." He grinned. "It was most amusing to see the surviving ships scatter and flee, only to get shredded by the rings, smash into rocks, or be picked off by our forces.”

“What did the Altheri do to you, I wonder?” Mission asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Well, they had to do something against you guys for you to attack them, right?” Mission said.

“We were raiding worlds. They didn’t have to do anything to us. We were testing ourselves against their armies. Their skill against ours.”

She tried to process this, and shook her head. “So there wasn’t a point to it. You just hit them because you could?”

“Exactly.”

“That seems an awfully strange reason to hurt someone, but what do I know, anyway?” Mission asked. Eager to change the subject away from the destruction of worlds, a topic that brought memories of Taris, she decided to ask about their destination. “I’ve never been to Tatooine. Haven’t heard much about it at all. You ever go there, Canderous?”

Canderous shook his head and continued cleaning his weapon. “It is a ball of sand with rock sticking out of it. It’s a dangerous place. Even in the settlement, there is little in the way of law. The true danger is the desert, street rat. You haven’t seen what it’s like—an endless sea of barren waste lethal to those who stray too far.”

“No, guess I haven’t.” she said. “How do you know so much about it?”

“It is much like my home planet…though my world had a bit of green around the equator. Tatooine is sand all over. I’ve heard some of my people have settled there after the war.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a place to settle.”

“We’re made of stronger stuff than most. Harsh climates go well with our temperaments,” Canderous said. Noticing Kairi had been silent the entire time he and Mission had been speaking, he commented, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Jedi.”

Kairi looked up and shrugged. “I was listening to your story, Canderous. I wasn’t going to interrupt.”

Canderous laughed. “Not going to condemn me as a monster until you’ve heard it all, eh?”

Kairi shut the panel on T3-M4’s side before picking up a power tester to check another part of the droid. “You’ve protected Dantooine’s farmers, kept your word to us, and you aren’t raiding worlds any longer.” She looked up. “So far, Canderous, you’ve proven yourself an honorable warrior. I won't quarrel with you over what can't be changed.”

Canderous laughed. “You’re not so bad. I see you’ve forgone the robes, at least.”

Kairi examined her garb – a plain blue tunic and pants, a spacer's utility belt at her waist. A brown vest went past her hips and concealed her lightsaber. “Fewer questions will be asked if I look like an ordinary traveler than if I advertise I’m a Jedi,” she said. “Secrecy, remember?”

“Kairi?” Bastila stood in the doorway, motioning for Kairi to come into the next room with her. She had outfitted herself in full robes, the lightsaber clearly displayed on her belt. Kairi had to sigh. So much for not advertising.

Kairi nodded, finished up the diagnostic, and put away the tool before following Bastila into the “common room.”

Bastila shook her head in amazement upon seeing Kairi. So far, so fast, and such change! It was hard to picture the small woman the way she was on Taris. Harder still to see in her the quiet, hard-working civilian she had pulled aboard the _Endar Spire_ …and harder still to picture her as -

“Yes, Bastila, What do you need?”

"The vision," Bastila said. "You saw it, too? That was why I came to find you."

Kairi’s face betrayed nothing, but Bastila felt the other woman’s cold dread down their link for a moment before it passed. “Yes, I suppose that would mean we’re on the right track,” she said. Eager to change the subject, she added, “But you also seem…distracted."

"The distraction is little more than Commander Onasi throwing his weight around," she said, throwing up her hands. "He informed me that Admiral Dodonna has contacted Master Vandar and put both of us in charge of this mission. It makes him insufferably pleased."

“I know about Dodonna’s orders, and it did not make him pleased,” Kairi insisted, lightly touching Bastila's arm. “Put yourself in his position for a moment. The Council hasn’t spoken to him. He’s not having these visions, yet he’s being asked to trust in two people he barely knows.”

She stepped out of Kairi's reach. “You’re quick to leap to his defense.”

Kairi sighed. “I understand what it’s like to be…adrift.” She looked towards the cockpit. “Please don’t be so harsh on him. He'll come around if we're honest and keep him informed.”

Bastila cleared her throat. “However, you are trying to evade discussion of the vision.”

Kairi shook her head. “You saw what I did. I know even less about this planet than you. The lack of light and the desert conditions point to the Star Map being in a cave or other structure. Beyond that, I don’t have anything more to add. The more facts we gather, the more we can put context to what we saw.” She checked the main console in the center room, pulling up planetary data. “It’s been a long and rather dull ten days to get here. I hope it doesn’t turn out to be a gizka chase.”

“I hope not either. However, I’ve made use of the time.”

“How?”

“I've been watching you, studying you closely to see what kind of progress you have made. Yes, I was watching you during your training with Master Zhar, but the Council also wanted me to observe you and send regular reports on your progress."

"I hope I am satisfactory," she said. ”I’m still trying to...process it all. Back on Dantooine, during the lessons, it seemed so clear. Now, I’m back to realizing just how little there is in my head.”

"Well, I've seen how you walk the path of the Light Side in dealing with Juhani and in defusing the long-standing feud between the Sandrals and Matales.. Very commendable, but I'm afraid you might stray from this path." Shaking her head, she looked Kairi over. "You haven't seen what the Dark Side represents, not in its entirety."

She crossed her arms, pulling away. “Bastila…”

Bastila felt the jolt of dread down their bond, wanting to share, wary of doing so. “Kairi, what is it?”

“It’s always there, like a voice in my head, suggesting things that seem pragmatic, efficient ways to complete the task. But the suggestions it gives are often cruel; seeing everything and everyone around me as things to be used.”

Bastila scowled. “Can you tell me….No. Words, even with your linguistic abilities, will likely not suffice. Give me your hand. Use your empathy. Show me.”

Hesitantly, she put out her hand. Bastila grasped her forearm, rubbing her thumb just above the wrist. _You still trust me, little one. That’s it...you have always trusted me. You just cannot remember.._.

Bastila was rewarded with a flash of something that tasted of metal and ice; enough to make her shiver, but was it with cold or thrill? No emotion but a desolate and dissonant calm, like wading through a swamp of blood and not caring. There was nothing out of place, nothing sentimental, all factors accounted for, all facts of the situation known, all competing concerns and desires nonexistent. There was only the task, only the will to accomplish it. It was hard, merciless – exquisite in the same way as flawless kyber.

Kairi snapped back her hand. “You can see the appeal of it? The _perfection_ it’s promising? I thought that the cruel suggestions _were_ the Force. I still half think it is. It’s most of the reason I didn’t want to be trained. It’s...hard enough to hold it back. Last thing _that_ needs is more power.”

_I'm not certain whether or not to be relieved by the fact she finds the Dark Side so incomprehensible and seemingly incompatible with her nature._ Bastila thought. Aloud, she attempted an explanation. "The Dark Side isn't simply giving into temptation or anger, or drawing on the Force to cause harm—those only lead to it. It's more insidious the closer you draw to it, begging you to surrender to its terrible power, to release…and once you stop resisting, it's too late. In the end, you're little more than an empty shell, and a mockery of what you once stood for."

Kairi raised an eyebrow. “Your experience with it seems...different than mine.”

"I'm no less resistant to temptation then anyone else," she said, scowling. "We are all susceptible. I've the benefit of training that you don't.”

Kairi nodded in silent acknowledgment. “And the benefit of others. The best thing that’s held it back is...well, the others here. I think of Carth or Mission or Zaalbar and -”

“Attachments. They are danger that a Jedi, especially one as powerful as you, cannot afford them.” Bastila’s posture went rigid, an unconscious imitation of her Masters. “Did Zhar not even tell you? A Jedi's life is sacrifice and duty. As such, we cannot afford what others take for granted. In most cases, such attachments are forbidden, lest they become a weakness or a crutch.”

Kairi flinched as though she’d been hit. Bastila held up her hand to interrupt as soon as Kairi opened her mouth.

"It isn't cruelty behind it," Bastila explained. "Relationships…friends, family, lovers…they're all fraught with powerful emotions. Anger and hate are the most obvious, but even love can lead to folly. They impair rational thought and cloud judgment. A Jedi is to be above such things.”

"Are you saying that friendships and family weaken you?" Kairi was displaying a most un-Jedi revulsion.

"For Jedi, yes."

"What about for non-Jedi?" Kairi asked, confused. "People like Mission, Canderous, and Carth?"

"The stakes are lower for them, and so are their consequence. We are set apart—above—by the Force. As such, they can be allowed their weaknesses. We cannot."

“’Weakness?’ ‘Set above? I needed them on Taris or I wouldn’t have survived. I don't consider myself above them. My abilities are…different, certainly, but…" Kairi scowled. “You sound just like that voice in my head; always seeing people as tools and objects.”

"That is why I worry about you. So little training, so little understanding of what it is to _be_ Jedi." Bastila sighed, shaking her head at Kairi's artlessness. "The Order is everything I've ever known. My family gave me to them when I was six. Even since, I have been trained and instructed in how to use my powers, to sit at the feet of the Council and hear their reasoning."

Kairi looked almost ill as she spoke about it. "I…I have no family, at least according to my file…but a child, so young…too young…The Jedi steal them from their families? Deesra told me that the younglings at the Enclave were orphans or foundlings..."

“Many of them are. It's the double-edge of the Force's gift. Because of what they are, they are able to survive what would destroy others. Yet, the Order is moving away from that. A handful of scouts travel the galaxy, looking for children with the gift. Once the parents are made to understand, they are quite willing to sacrifice for the greater good and their child’s future. The younger, the better, as the training takes so long and our numbers are so few.”

“And they never see their families again? They aren't allowed...”

"Kairi, go no further. A child is too young to understand the sacrifices that must be made,” Bastila explained, clasping her hands behind her back in order to better project authority and assurance.

Kairi walked to stand next to her, her hand slightly out, and her black eyes offering comfort and sympathy should Bastila wish it. Bastila did not take the offer. Kairi had painful realities of the Jedi path to understand yet, and Bastila would have to teach those to her in the absence of the Masters.

“I didn't have the best relationship with my family, but yes, it was painful,” Bastila admitted. “I did miss my father terribly for a very long time. We were very close.”

When she closed her eyes, the memory was both pleasant and unwelcome. At the age of five, she sat on her dear Papa’s lap while he handed her one of the treasures he had collected, the front claw of a Rodian ghest. Bastila remembered turning the polished claw over in her tiny hands while Papa held her and laughed, calling her his “greatest treasure.” Of course, Mother had to come into the room and scold him for letting her play with such a thing.

Bastila forced herself back to the present. There is no emotion, there is peace. Clearing her throat, she turned back to Kairi.

“He doted on me, and was so kind and gentle – quite the opposite of Mother. She pushed him into treasure hunting. Before the Jedi, I'd spent all my life on ships hopping from one false lead to the next. She wasn't a very warmhearted woman, either. I think she was actually relieved to give me up to the Jedi, but it broke Father's heart."

"You still miss them." Sympathy and sadness trailed down the bond. Again, the thing that defined Kairi's strength also made her such a terrible danger.

“It…it was for the best, I suppose. I've learned to embrace the life I've chosen. No, Kairi, we are creatures of duty – nothing more and nothing less. Love can only serve to complicate and confuse matters."

"Which is why an empty vessel like me would hold appeal for them," Kairi’s tone was bitter. "No family, no attachments, no memory…just a file and a mission to be sent on.” 

“The gift of the Force comes with a high cost. Sacrifice of one's emotional attachments is one of the prices a Jedi must be willing to pay. The alternative is to fall prey to the Dark Side.”

Annoyance flashed down the bond. “Oh, what does the Dark Side have to do with it? Especially since those 'attachments' have been the best way to push it back.”

“It has everything to do with it! It is so easy to think that we would never fall prey to such a horror; that we have unlimited control, vigilance and foresight. If only that were true. And that is why the Dark Side is so insidious.” Bastila took a shuddering breath. “The Order was once more lenient when it came to emotional entanglements, but then Exar Kun brought Sith teachings. His followers used every tactic to divide and destroy the Jedi, starting with the people individual Jedi held most dear. Time and again, these Jedi succumbed. The galaxy paid the price for our folly in bloodshed. We cannot allow such a thing to happen again. If the Way of the Jedi is all a child knows? If the emotional ties are severed cleanly and early? The chances of such a terrible thing happening ever again are greatly reduced. It is the difference between taking a Bespin Rawwk from the nest and training it for the hunt rather than attempting to capture and train a full-grown one that will always be wild and yearning for its freedom.”

“But if these attachments are sure to lead to the Dark Side, and the Order's spent the last forty years doing their best to sever them, why are the Sith still doing so well?” Kairi asked.

“We cannot destroy our imperfections, only minimize them. The Sith exploit whatever they can in a concerted effort to break Jedi, to make them fall. What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause? To use their own knowledge against them? We are weakened while they are strengthened. So we must harden our hearts and do _whatever_ is required to fight against the Dark Side. Even when the battle becomes wearying.”

“Hardening our hearts?” Kairi shook her head, and Bastila felt sharp disagreement – almost disgust – from the other woman. “Listen to yourself, Bastila. All this power...and yet, we're supposed to be isolated from the people we serve, denied even the most basic of bonds. Why is it a surprise when some go mad?"

Before Bastila really understood what she was doing, she grabbed Kairi's shoulders, and all but threw the other woman against the bulkhead. This woman had no idea how dangerous she was, how such rebellious things shouldn’t even be thought much less spoken.

She could feel Kairi’s alarm. Despite herself, it brought Bastila a terrible thrill.

"Kairiana Niko, what did I hear you say?"

Surprise…confusion…Bastila had never been good with emotions, leaning heavily on Jedi codes and mantras for control. Now, she was Force-bonded to this…creature of emotion, a danger and threat…a terrible mistake…

"Hey!" Eyes wide with alarm, head-tails flattened, and crouched to spring, Mission hid half in shadows, ready to jump between them.

_No, she's there to help Kairi_ …Bastila realized. _Great Force, woman, I'm technically in charge of this, but the loyalty of the crew is strictly in your hands, isn't it?_

Bastila quickly let go of Kairi, and both women made a show of brushing off their clothing. "I think we should take the training exercises elsewhere, Bastila," Kairi said. "As to not frighten everyone else."

"Well, three things…" Mission said. "One, don't think I buy it for a second. Two, we've landed. Three, all that talk about family being a hindrance can go out the airlock as far as I'm concerned, but hey…I'm not one of you guys."

* * *

Tatooine was one large desert, and the only non-native population was in a small port named Anchorhead, a company town for Czerka’s mining operations. Permission to land was granted, and the _Hawk_ sailed in low over the town.

The spaceport was bustling, a waystation for all sorts of craft to fill up on supplies. Many of them looked shady, all of them looked well-traveled. The skies were the clearest blue, and everything around them was the color of sand, broken up by colorful canopies sheltering entryways and windows from the double suns. Kairi, Mission, and Bastila decided they would scout around first. As they descended the ramp, the hot, dry air blasted them like a furnace.

A nondescript human man in Czerka uniform approached and inspected them, took their docking fee, and gave pleasant, tourist-guide information about the planet. Anchorhead was the only settled town, population of five thousand, 80% were directly on Czerka payroll. The out of the way location of the planet made for a good place for “independent traders” to rest a while, sell some of their cargo, and patch their ships. Czerka’s primary interest, of course, was mining operations.

“We’re no longer hiring for the mines, though,” the man said. “Too many Sand People attacks. I even hear the ore isn’t what the bosses thought it was.”

“Actually,” Kairi said. “I’m not as interested in the mines as other things. I’ve heard Tatooine’s mostly unexplored. Have you heard anything about ruins? Strange artifacts?”

The uniformed man shook his head. “Oh, diggers, huh? Sorry, ladies. Wouldn’t know much about that. Might want to see if you can talk to the local office. They might know. As for me, I’d be shocked if we found anything on this dustball. If there’s an interesting point in the galaxy, we’re about as far from it as possible.”

“Would the Czerka local office be the place to ask about employees?” Mission asked. “I…well, I’m looking for someone, and last I heard, he was working in the mines here.”

“Yeah, that would be the place. It’s not too far from the spaceport and pretty hard to miss. Tallest building in Anchorhead.” He thought a moment. “If you're treasure hunting, an Ithorian guy’s built a lodge in town. You’ll also have to go there if you want to apply for a hunting license – it’s the only way you’re allowed outside the gates. It’s dangerous out there, even if Czerka's letting any old thrill-seeker past who can pay the fee. They're really desperate to chase off the natives. Last places to find any local dirt are the cantinas, but those are pretty sleazy – popular with riff-raff.”

“Thank you,” said Kairi.

“Enjoy your stay, Czerka Corporation welcomes the business!” The man returned to his station.

“The Czerka office would be the best place to go first,” Bastila said. “We’ll also need a hunting license for exploring outside the gates, and we might be able to get something out of the fellows in the lodge.”

“Czerka office it is,” Kairi said. I hope they’re open.”

* * *

Most of Anchorhead looked alike, the dust colored buildings blending in with each other and the desert. Contrasting with the dull tan of the environment were the colorful array of aliens, some of which Kairi had no way to identify. Kiosks and open air markets buzzed with a polyglot soup of haggling and trade, along with an equally bizarre array of items for sale – used weapons, ship parts, foodstuffs, livestock…

Kairi walked ahead while Mission and Bastila trailed behind. Climbing on a short wall and walking its width as though it were a tightrope, Mission asked, "Hey, Bastila. You ever use the Force just for fun? Y'know, like if some jerk's ticking you off, give them a little push to make them fall on their rump?"

Bastila stood akimbo, the very picture of offended dignity. "I'd never use the Force for such petty and trivial purpose! The mere thought of it is preposterous!"

"Ah, come on," teased Mission, doing a perfect cartwheel on the narrow ledge. "There's got to be times where you thought about it. You can admit it to me. Don't be so stuck up!"

"I am not stuck up. I merely have the years of training to give me the wisdom to see how childish such an act would be."

Mission folded her arms. "Don't be getting all high and mighty on me! Just 'cause you're some Jedi doesn't mean you can be a prissy little…"

Mission felt her feet being swept out from under her, despite the solid balance she had on the wall, and fell square on her butt. She looked up with amazement at Bastila, who was now radiating a smug calm.

"Hey, that wasn't fair!"

"I've no idea what you're talking about, Mission. Come now, we've got to get going. Try not to be so clumsy in the future."

Before they could argue further, a Twi'lek woman in a plain tan jumpsuit and carrying hunting gear walked up to Bastila. Her Basic was thickly-accented. "You…is your name Bastila? I know it has been a very long time, but…yes…you must be her. Helena's little girl…why, you look just like her."

"Pardon me, do…do I know you?"

"I am Malare. I used to work for your parents, a hunter on their expeditions. I remember when you…well, when you left. Such a pretty girl you were."

"I have no time for idle chat. Is there something I can do for you?"

Mission flinched at the iciness in Bastila's voice. "Don't be rude, Bastila."

"I didn't mean to take up your time. I just wanted to ask whether your mother's condition has improved since I last saw her."

Bastila paled and involuntarily took a step back. She covered it by pretending to be interested in a scarf at a nearby kiosk. "My mother's condition?"

Malare looked horrified. "I thought you knew! She was so desperate to find you, and I had thought…Well, I thought that was why you came to this planet."

"I've not seen my mother since I joined the Order.” It came out sharper then she would have liked. “What has happened…and have you news of my father?"

"No, no news of him. Helena did not want to discuss him, and I did not want to hurt a dying woman that way…"

"Dying?" Mission said. "I'll go get Kairi."

Mission vanished into the crowds to go find Kairi, leaving Bastila with Malare. Bastila had trouble forming words, but finally sighed and shook her head, resigned. No doubt Kairi would urge her to open up old wounds and rebuild bridges that should have stayed burnt. Bastila already noticed the way she induced Carth into revisiting unpleasant memories. Bastila had several ways to resist the well-intentioned manipulations of her charge, but once Kairi and Mission got the rest of the crew behind them, she would have no peace at all unless a token effort was made to appease them.

"I suppose she wants credits. I highly doubt she is sick, however. Mother can lie about much to get her way."

Malare blinked in confusion. "You will not go see her?"

"Part of me would rather not see her at all," Bastila said. Remembering how a Jedi was supposed to conduct themselves, she took a deep breath before speaking again. "But if she truly is ill…well, we shall see."

"She lives in the boarding house—the one above the Hot Stars Cantina. I will tell her you are here when she asks about you," Malare said, walking back into the crowd.

Bastila could sense Kairi and Mission approaching, and Mission was already telling Kairi about what Malare said. _Well, no getting out of this_ , Bastila supposed. It would mean a long and tedious explanation she had no interest in starting.

"Bastila?" Kairi asked. Again, the sympathy, again the concern, and again a silent offer of support that Bastila could not accept. _That damn woman…Not even I can save her unless she learns to lock down that cursed empathy._

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” Bastila said under her breath, as much to Kairi as to herself. Clearing her throat, she straightened. "She is at a boarding house above a cantina," Bastila said, quickly reminding the pair. "Though we don't have the time for this."

"If I can go look for my brother, then you can spare a few minutes with your mom," Mission said. “Bet she's proud of you, growing up to be such a great Jedi."

"I doubt she's spared a single thought for me in these years," Bastila said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just as I should not spare another thought for her. Come on, we must go to the Czerka office. You may make inquiries as to your brother there, Mission but we are also there to complete our task."

* * *

Canderous struck off on his own, heading into the warrens and hovels on the town outskirts. Hastily constructed, and already crumbling, the settlement was in a constant state of build and rebuild. Children of several races ran about underfoot, playing ball or begging in the streets. Canderous ignored them – those children would learn to fight or they’d starve, and it wasn’t his place to impose that lesson.

His ears perked up when he heard Mando'a spoken in the streets. Even the sound made him homesick for the world of his clan—desert and rock, blazing sun and hot dust. It confirmed the story that some of his people had come here after the war.

Malachor was the greatest of all battles, but _an jhetat,_ what a costly one. Before that battle, he had been Canderous of Ordo—a general in Mandalore's army, proud leader in a prouder clan. His people swept through the galaxy, killing ten Republic men for every one they lost. They figured the Jedi would come out of their holes eventually, but too little and too late.

And then Revan came – _Haar Teroch Jetii -_ the one with no mercy. While there were solid fighters on the field – Malak, Li-Bek—the great Jedi tactician was more legend than reality. The results were brutal and stunning, however. Even the feints—the fleets set as bait and the civilian worlds left bare—were costly. Mandalorians never fought or did anything in half-measures and Revan's tactics exploited it on every level. Their victories crumbled into Pyrrhic ones, as they were chased out of the Degana system, off Duro. They even lost Dxun. That was when they knew it would not end well.

Malachor IV was a taboo world, for reasons lost to tradition and Taung lore. It was said to be the palace-world of Kad Ha'rangir, the God of Destruction. The old Taung religion didn't hold much weight anymore, but the destroyer god sure had a good dance that day. Revan put Cian Li-Bek, a lethally unpredictable Alderaanian, in charge of the sector's forces. Li-Bek drew as many as he could into close orbit, where the atmosphere made fighting difficult.

Once the trap was set, the gates of hell exploded. The planet seemed to turn inside out, sucking ships into an immense gravity well. Shockwaves belched out from the dying planet, shattering battleships like they were made of glass. It was only by the slenderest of margins that Mandalore's ship did not get pulled in as well.

Revan hadn't cared if they were Republic or Mandalorian. The only thing the Mass Shadow Generator had been designed for was killing millions – as brutally and dishonorably as possible. Given that, why was anyone surprised by _Haar Teroch Jetii_ coming back to Republic space as a Sith?

Those who survived that terrible battle above Malachor IV were forced to watch as the Jedi's forces brought together their weapons and armor, their war droids and beasts, even the remains of their ships. Placed in chains and herded by armed Republic men onto the observation deck of Revan's flagship, they watched as all they had was blown to oblivion before their eyes. Revan had left them with nothing.

He had managed to smuggle his blaster cannon out of the sight of Revan's forces, but he had nothing else; no rank, no armor…

And no clan. As true Mandalorians, they battled until the end, every last one of them from elders to younglings torn apart by Malachor's dying gasp. Out of an army and culture that never comprised more than a quarter-billion, the survivors were a few thousand at best.

A dugout building with a domed roof had a metal sign with a glass of ale on it out front – the universal sign for a cantina. He had a few credits in his pocket – enough for a pint of local ale. The bartender, a man probably younger than his leathery face and stiff walk would suggest, sized him up.

“Only ones who enter Junix Nard’s cantina are long-time losers and bounty hunters. Don’t have to tell you the pair don’t mix. Keep the blaster fire to a minimum.”

Canderous slid onto one of the bar stools. “Bounty hunting, eh? Sounds like good work.”

“Mandalorian, right? Well, you’re not going out of the city without a license from Czerka, but Anchorhead’s a good enough place to call a port. Czerka’s doing so poorly here that the space dock’s their best source of income. That means, you pay them for repairs, and they won’t ask questions. I reckon that once Czerka’s gone, the Hutts or the Exchange will set up shop.”

Canderous took a sip and grimaced. The ale tasted like it was brewed in a swoop engine. “The Sith? The Republic?”

The bartender laughed. “This rock’s got nothing that would impress the likes of them. Maybe a few token troops if it ever comes down to it. Probably why we’ve got the Mandalorians here, back to killing each other…”

Canderous usually prided himself on his sharp eyes and careful observation, but so did the man in the shadowed corner of the bar. He slumped over, the better not to be noticed. Oh, he knew Canderous of Ordo—the former general, the fearsome warrior…

The glory-seeker, the traitor to kin.

He left the cantina unnoticed, heading deep into the Mandalorian Quarter. He knew an old friend who would welcome the news of his kinsman being alive and skulking about on this backwater planet…an old friend who would like nothing better than to slit Canderous's throat.

Juhani stayed behind with the ship. She, Zaalbar, and Carth had finished with mundane tasks like cleaning the food synthesizer, trash disposal, and laundry. She was outside the ship with two short swords and wearing an ordinary bodysuit while her robes were being washed.

She had heard the dreadful news back at the Enclave, and heard the awful details aboard the ship. Taris was gone now. The warren, the rat-hole, the paradise…gone. The halls of the ship felt too claustrophobic, too much like the sunless Lower City for her liking. She needed the sky. She needed to move. She needed to fight.

Juhani swung at an invisible foe, and spun on her heel as if another were behind her; going through the ritualized motions she had so often practiced with Quatra. Ah, if only she were here, and if only Juhani could make her apologies and atonement in person! For now, to follow her teachings was the best way Juhani could honor her master.

"Not bad," a gravelly voice called to her. "Always did appreciate Cathar warriors. Good people, honorable fighters."

"Not as though you would know honor, Mandalorian," Juhani said as Canderous walked into view.

"Brave words, cat," he said. "Honor is a man's life where I'm from."

“Calling me a beast?” She fired back. “The Mandalorians waged genocide against us! And then you turn your thirst for blood on the Republic.”

He snarled back at her. “If you can’t defend what you have, then you deserve to have it taken from you! And the cowardly tactics of the Republic were worse; hiding in the homes of civilians, and using families as shields, underestimating our resolve to crush all opposition…”

“Killing those who were protecting their homes and families. Slaughtering the children, and burning all in your path." Juhani's anger burned. Why did Kairi and Bastila tolerate this brute on the ship?

His shook his fist, all but daring her to charge him. "If the destruction of a city is what it takes to destroy a Republic shield device, why did they think we wouldn't use that level of force?"

"All your talk of honor and glory when you are little more than bandits and thieves!” Realizing she was roaring at him, letting her rage get the upper hand, Juhani turned away, hanging her head and whispering. “There is no emotion, there is peace…there is no chaos, there is harmony…”

Canderous huffed with disgust, “Codes and mantras. No will to fight. "

Juhani tossed one of the swords to Canderous, who caught it in mid-air. "A duel?" he asked.

"Practice," Juahni answered. "As much as I despise your kind, you are a member of this crew. Two wounds?"

"Agreed," Canderous said, saluting Juhani with the blade before they clashed swords.

* * *

A building of stucco and tan adobe, Czerka's office only stood out by being about five stories tall, the tallest building in the small town. A polished brass plaque announced it was the company's regional headquarters.

Walking inside the adobe building, they encountered a Czerka rep in business attire that was incongruous and silly amid the dry heat of the planet. An infuriated Duros was throwing up his hands in frustration while the human rep was the picture of corporate dispassion.

_< <"And don't tell me to take my concerns to your corporate kiosk! I should have known better than to think…">>_

"Mister Bracon, do you want me to call security?" The rep said, her arms folded, and her expression like stone.

_< <"Forget it! You won't listen no matter what I do!">>_ He turned and stormed past the party, slamming the old wooden door on the way out.

"What was that about?" Kairi asked.

"He was questioning our business practices, but since he's no shareholder, we don't have to tolerate his suggestions or his behavior." The rep walked back over to her desk and pulled the chair out, attempting to go back to her paperwork.

"Well, we're not stockholders, either," Kairi said. "But we came here to inquire about one of your employees."

“I'm sorry, but company policy...” The Czerka representative then seemed to notice Bastila's full robes and lightsaber, and her attitude became much more differential. “Let me be the first to say that Czerka shows respect for galactic authority." She walked to the kiosk. "What employee listing?"

Seeing as Bastila was the only one the protocol officer was going to address, she did the talking. "Vao. Griff Vao. A Twi'lek. He said he was working in the mines. We've his sister with us, and she's quite eager to see him."

"Vao…Griff Vao…Twi'lek…?" She looked very nervous. "Sorry, madam, but we don't have a Griff Vao working here…never did…"

Bastila folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You certain? We would leave you to your work sooner and not have to return.”

The protocol officer kept looking at Bastila's lightsaber nervously. "Oh, that Griff Vao," she sighed. "His supervisor was always complaining about him. Came to work late, slept through his shifts, faked injuries to get out of work…we can't prove it, but we think he might have been stealing company supplies."

"Yup," Mission said, shaking her head. "That's Griff, all right."

"I take it he's been fired?" Bastila said.

"No," she said. "We were too desperate for miners…" Under her breath, she muttered. "Though we really wanted to…" Clearing her throat and speaking normally again, she said. "Unfortunately, there was a Sand People attack forty-eight hours earlier. He and two other miners went missing. In the end, it wasn’t cost-effective to continue the search."

"Griff…Sand people? Oh, no!" Mission stumbled with the news.

Bastila asked tersely, "So, they've just been written off to die?"

"I resent your insults, Madam Jedi. Czerka cares deeply for its employees, though all sign a waiver form releasing us from liability since these attacks are so frequent. We've even implemented a program with Fazza in the hunting lodge across the way. Three hundred credits for each of the ceremonial gaffi sticks one can retrieve. It's as good as their heads, and far less messy." She folded her arms. "For more details, visit him. That's all I know. Now, I have to resume my work." The representative slid behind her desk and started working again, trying very hard to ignore them.

"Friendly neighborhood Czerka rep," Mission muttered. "Well, I guess that means we head to the lodge."

Kairi sighed and glanced out the door. Bracon was still nearby, pacing near a landspeeder and grumbling to himself. Frustration rolled off the infuriated Duros like dust.

She walked out the door and up to him. He was cursing as he cleaned sand out of a clogged air intake. Upon noticing her, his frustration took on more of an edge.

_< <“I will leave your property as soon as I clear the intake. Happy now, Czerka?”>>_

“I don’t work for Czerka,” Kairi said. “What is the trouble? Did you also lose someone in that last attack?” She pulled out a multitool from the utility belt around her waist. As she did so, her vest brushed backwards, exposing her lightsaber.

The Duros's eyes centered on the lightsaber. _< <“Jedi? Here?”>>_

“We’re passing through,” Kairi explained. “But it still doesn’t explain why you were in the Czerka office.”

_< <“I didn't lose anyone. I was trying to tell Czerka how not to lose theirs. They show no respect for this land. This is no wasteland, despite appearances. They deployed numerous giant sandcrawlers to tear up the desert with ion shovels and whatever else – very destructive.>>_

“And I suppose this went against whatever treaty they had with the natives.”

Bracon sniffed. _< <”What treaty? There was _no _negotiation or communication made with the Sand People before they landed. Between that and the strip mining that could pollute even the few oasis areas this planet has...Think about it, would this not look like an attack, an invasion, to them?” >>_

“What?” Kairi was stunned. “Even elementary corporate protocol would state you make attempts to negotiate with native sentients before deployment in order to prevent problems like this.” Of course, their willingness to leave employees to die and the callous attitude of their protocol officer supported Bracon's picture of a company that didn't give a whit about _preventing_ problems, so long as a quick profit was made.

_< <“Czerka is a bunch of slavers and greedy blood worms. They would sooner hire out bounty hunters to kill their problems than deal with them. It is not the natives' fault that we cannot understand their language.”>>_

“I see.” Kairi said with a sigh. Already, she understood Bracon’s annoyance. Even without empathy, she shared it. “So you were in the office to protest it.”

_< <“Not just protest it. I own a small assay office and sell moisture farming equipment near the southern gates. My neighbor, Yuka Laka, owns a droid shop. Not long ago, he picked up a very odd droid, a non-standard protocol model. Well, Yuka had a few too many juri juices in his system while trying to clean it one night, and I heard it start cursing at him in what sounded like the Sand People dialect.>>_

“You think it actually speaks the local language?”

_< <Yuka thinks it does, though he'll pass off rust as gold to make a sale. I was in there trying to convince Czerka to check the droid. Maybe it could negotiate with the Sand People, and the attacks could be solved. You have seen how well that went.”>> _

Kairi rubbed her chin. It was certainly a lead worth checking. “And if the droid speaks the Sand Person language, how would you get to them?”

_< <“Their encampment is not far to the southwest. However, there are lots of fighters, and they kill any invaders on sight. Maybe a disguise could work, taking some of their robes and hiding yourself. Then, you'd have the problem of explaining why you had to kill their warriors. I don't know...”>>_

By this time, Bastila and Mission had caught up to them and heard a considerable part of the conversation.

“This droid may not work,” Bastila warned. “In fact, it seems highly unlikely to work.”

“There's no harm in checking it, is there?” Kairi said. “A good translator droid would know more languages than even I do.”

“Hey!” Mission objected, folding her arms. “These ‘natives’ are attacking people. I don't care about negotiating!”

Kairi folded her arms and stared Mission down. “You don't? Then try this. There are three of us and thousands of them. If we are dead, so is your brother. If we're going to help him, then we need a plan.”

“You…you really are gonna try and help him?” Mission asked. “You’re serious?”

Kairi nodded. “Yes, we are.”

A surprised and delighted smile crossed Mission’s blue face. “Wow! I knew I could count on you! There are definitely fringe benefits to being friends with a Jedi.”

Kairi did not budge, however. “But, Mission, if I even _sense_ you are going to cause difficulty, you will be confined to the ship and I'll _order_ Zaalbar not to let you out. Got it?”

Sensing she had already pushed her luck enough with the Jedi for one day, Mission crossed her head-tails behind her back and became contrite. “Got it.”

* * *

As they left the Czerka sector, they passed a sandcrawler mechanic at work. What they didn't see was him ducking behind the massive machine and activating the comlink.

"It's them; the ones on your datapad, Jagi."

"Is there a man in the party? One of my kind?"

"Negative. Three women…one of them appears to be Jedi."

"We've other plans for those," said a second voice—a nasal monotone. "Just keep your eyes open."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who may have seen the obscure Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers animated series? Yes, Kairi's surname is DEFINITELY a shout out to Ranger Niko. There is another GR reference in this chapter.


	3. Danger from the Past

Three duels later, they were both sporting wounds, and gasping for breath. Canderous had to admit what while Juhani was Jedi—the woman was still Cathar, and Cathar were more than a match for a Mandalorian in a good fight. Something else he noticed was that their fighting had been reckless. Jedi went for precision, but Juhani was quick and aggressive. She was fighting herself as much as sparring with him. He also noticed his own movements getting sloppy, though he couldn’t place what was clouding his brain.

Juhani saluted him with the sword. "Shall we rest for now?"

Canderous nodded and handed the sword back to her.

They walked up the boarding ramp together, heading for the cargo bay and the medkits. Canderous took one out and tossed it to Juhani.

"Good fighting out there," he said. "Perhaps you still have your fangs and claws after all."

She scowled at him. "I wonder if you were this infuriating to Revan when she sent your kind back where they belonged."

Canderous laughed. “I saw Revan board Mandalore's ship. I was one of those who held the line on the bridge, witnessed that final duel. Revan was not man or woman. Revan was Death itself, a purple lightsaber cutting down all that would oppose. There was nothing in those robes or under that mask that belonged to anything from this world."

"And of Revan's eventual fate?"

Canderous huffed in contempt. “The Jedi can whine and cry about how Revan fell to what they call ‘Darkness,’ but that was because they would rather hide in their Enclaves than face us. Revan knew we were a threat and responded accordingly. Feints, counterattacks, traps…brutal in the execution, and subtle in their planning. Fought us to a standstill, and then pushed back. We still gave the Republic a good fight.”

"Believe what you like," she said curtly. "But the truth may be different."

Juhani put the medpack at her feet, and Canderous scowled. Why was she refusing? He saw the Cathar woman stand with her feet shoulder-width and mutter something in a language he could not identify, possibly a Jedi mantra.

The scratches and stabs he had inflicted during their practices started to fade like they never were. She was gritting her teeth as flesh regenerated with unnatural speed, but when it was over, her wounds were knitted and rapidly fading.

"My ability to heal others is not as well-developed," she explained. "I was trained as a Jedi Guardian, my abilities honed for combat."

Canderous raised an eyebrow. He knew Jedi could fight, but didn't think their kind would specifically train some as warriors. He picked up the medkit. "Interesting." He took off his shirt. Already some of the wounds were starting to knit. "Good to know my implants are functioning. They should patch me up quickly enough, but I'll use the medkit to speed things up a bit. Carth gets nosy."

She nodded and watched as he worked. "Do you need an extra hand?"

"No, miss, I'll be fine. You know, I could accuse you of being here for the show," he taunted.

"Not likely. You are…" She struggled with the words. "You are too wrong to be attractive."

"Ah, yes. Back to that again. I suppose I would be the wrong species."

Juhani smiled wickedly. "More like the wrong sex."

This actually made him laugh. "Ah, _dosh’kar’tay_. Perhaps I shouldn't ask about you and Kairi sharing a room, then. Might break that crazy pilot's heart."

Juhani shook her head. "I am curious as to why she has accepted us both. I will not lie. I hate Mandalorians. I hate all they are, and all they stand for. I hate that they burned the plains and the city-trees. I hate that my people are scattered and few because of yours.”

“Then rejoice in the fact that Revan left fewer of us alive than we left of yours,” Canderous said. “And the fact that the Cathar cost us _dearly_. Still, I don't hold a grudge against you, or the Republic, or even Revan. So put down yours, the _Hawk's_ too small for it.”

She paced the deckplates. “I still wonder why the Council allowed you to come along on this mission. I will not question their judgment, however. So far, it has been better than my own."

“A fellow named Vandar – small, very shrewd – approached each one of us. I'm not sure what he said to the others, but he asked me how many credits it would take to buy my share of the _Hawk_. I told him to space himself, naturally.”

“So you aren't just in this because of your claim to the ship or promise of credits?”

“That was my mistake with Davik. Kairi had also approached me, see. She told me what we're doing. We're trying to find Malak's hidden base. If luck...or your 'Force' is with us, we'll be throwing the crushgaunt right at his feet – literally. That's worth more than all the credits on Muunilinst!”

“And how did you...” She almost used the word “befriend,” but a Jedi like Kairi actually welcoming a Mandalorian barbarian's company? The idea was absurd. “How did you and Kairi form a partnership?”

Canderous shrugged. "If you wish the truth, I was their only way off Taris. She trusted me – probably against Carth's and Bastila's wishes. We battled my boss, stole his ship, and you now walk the deck plates."

“So, why not take the ship for yourself and just leave everyone else to rot?”

He glared at her, shocked and very offended. "What do you take me for? You say you hate my kind? You don't know enough about Mandalorians to do it properly. I've gone to battle with both Kairi and Carth – though I think that Republic man's suicidal. I even knew Mission and her Wookiee in passing down in the Lower City. All of them look me in the eye and say what they think. They fight well, and they fight clean. They've earned respect.”

"I see," she said sharply. "All that has happened to you, and you seem to have learned so little. Is combat all you live for?"

“Are Jedi always this _jhetattan_ arrogant? Unless you name a better objective, I'll stick to my current one."

"Very well," Juhani said. "I will be in my quarters should you wish for aid…or another duel."

She left, and her steps were so silent, he could barely hear her walking towards the common room. He had expected Juhani to start in with some puffery about how fighting was wrong, how the Dark Side this or that, or how he needed to find their concept of "peace." He had a string of sarcastic comebacks for them too.

Did he want to be lectured? _Teja gra_ , he was a warrior, not a masochist. Canderous went back to patching his wounds.

* * *

As they trudged through the streets, kicking up dust, Mission was deep in thought. She kept going over the last time she saw Griff, Lena’s words, and the Czerka rep’s grudging reluctance to even acknowledge Griff’s existence.

Griff had his problems – gambling, drinking, stupid “get rich quick” plans, spending what credits he did get on whatever nice pairs of legs and lekku were willing to have a roll with him. There was even that time where he was dumb enough to kidnap the local Constable's kids. Griff should have counted his blessings that Gadon or the Constable didn't blast him on sight.

He did rack up enormous debt he couldn't pay. There was even a rumor that the Exchange was after him. Given that, the string of burned ex-girlfriends, and the gangs, it made sense for him to skip planet. Still, why wouldn't he have taken her along? Did he really plan on coming back for her? Maybe Lena was right, after all. Mission shuddered at the thought. Still, she hoped Griff was still alive. No one deserved to die alone in the middle of a desert.

Mission felt Kairi's arm around her shoulders, and moved a little closer. “You'll know what to say to Griff – _when_ the time comes.” There wasn't an “if” in her voice, and it certainly made Mission feel better.

She returned the gesture by resting her lekku on Kairi's shoulder. Right now, Mission had her doubts about Griff, but she didn't have a single one about Kairi.

They passed by the Hot Stars, a shabby building that tried to look better than it was. The cantina occupied the first floor, and two floors worth of rooms were stacked above it. A holographic sign advertising "Rooms for Rent" flickered in one of the windows and sickly-sounding recorded music warbled from cheap speakers. It smelled of smoke, sweat, and intoxicants. A Duros in Czerka uniform swore as he stormed out of the bar. Looking for someone to rant to, he fixed right on Kairi.

_< <"The nerve of that woman, I swear. 'Helena' must be the term for pit rancor in your language. I am sorry you have to share a species with such a creature.">>_

"Sir?" Kairi asked, confused by the man's anger. "Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?"

_< <"What I need is an intoxicant, but not in that place. Simple enough to go home and drink there, I suppose.">>_

He stormed off towards Czerka's employee barracks, and Mission watched him leave. Having spent the time she did on Taris, she picked up enough of an understanding of the Duros language to get the gist of what he was saying.

"Helena," Mission said, then looked up at Bastila. "Hey, that's your mom's name, right?"

"Really, Mission, we don't have time for this…though the behavior certainly seems apt."

"I still have to ask directions to the droid shop," Kairi said. "And a cantina's the best place to ask for them. It's on our way."

"C'mon," Mission insisted, all but pulling Bastila's arm and dragging her into the cantina.

It was between shifts for Czerka's employees, and the itinerant spacers were always looking to spend their credits on a drink or gamble it away. A scantily-dressed human prostitute sat in the lap of a Twi'lek man as he rolled gaming cubes and bet on the outcome. A scrawny Zabrak male had a shell game going with three worn Pazaak cards. Most of the tables were full of Czerka miners and office support, each group keeping clear distance from the other as they complained about thinner payrolls and declining mine output.

In the back of the lounge, Bastila spied a middle-aged human woman. The years had not been kind to her, making her look overly pale and thin, her brown hair now a dull gray. Her long fingers played with a glass of ale, bloodshot blue-gray eyes searching the room.

“She looks just like you, Bastila…well, how you’d look with about twenty years of hard living,” Mission said. “That your mom?”

“I’m…I haven’t seen my mother in years, Mission, and I’m not certain I care to see her now.”

“That’s what I thought. Hey, go on ahead. I’m not crazy about my brother at the moment, but it still doesn’t mean I’d leave if I had a chance to talk to him again. Besides, you heard what the lady told you. She’s sick. I’ll bet she really wants to see you.”

Kairi put a hand on Bastila’s shoulder. “Bastila, please, go over there.”

Bastila dropped her voice. “I've not seen her since I was six, and I have no desire to start now. Remember what I told you about attachments? Contact will only make things worse.”

Kairi smiled sadly. “At least you have a chance to speak to her again. According to my file, my family is dead. And I would pay dearly for a chance to speak to them, or even to remember them.” With those words, she vanished into the crowd.

Mission decided she'd had enough of Bastila's feet shuffling and walked up there herself, tapping the older woman on the shoulder. "Excuse me…uh…Ms. Shan?"

The woman started, looking up at the Twi'lek girl. "Yes, what do you…? Oh, I'm sorry." She looked from Mission to Bastila. "Do…do I know you?"

"I am here, Mother," Bastila said curtly. "Or don't you recognize me?"

The older woman's face furrowed in confusion before turning into surprise, which quickly turned bitter. "What you do expect, when I've not so much as had a picture of you since you left? Do you even realize how long I've been trying to find you?"

"You knew that communication would be impossible once I joined the Order," Bastila's tone could have frozen the desert. Mission was glad Kairi wasn't here. One didn't have to be an empath to get nailed by the tension between the two. "Now, what is this about? Where is Father?"

Helena couldn’t fake the paling of her cheeks, or the stunned blinking. "Then…then you've not heard. I should have known."

"What's happened to him? Are you going to tell me or not?"

"He is dead, Bastila. That's one of the reasons I was trying to find you."

"Dead? Father?" Bastila stammered. She shook her head and fired back at her mother. "What happened? What did you get him into that killed him?"

Helena looked up at Mission. "Well, now. Hasn't this been a lovely reunion? Already flinging insults at me, already accusing me…Tell me, you're one of her friends, I'd suppose. Do you treat your mother this way?"

Mission shrugged. "Never knew my parents. Sorry."

Bastila sighed in frustration. "I was told you were ill. Is it the truth, or simply melodrama for my benefit?"

"Such sweet words," Helena threw back. "I hadn't realized Jedi could be so spiteful." She shook her head and sighed. "All right, I'll tell you everything before we start arguing again. You want me to tell you that I brought him here on an expedition and lured him to his death, right? You weren't old enough to understand. Your father loved his treasure hunting, but I was to blame for everything. What else is new?" Helena crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "So, yes. Your father came here to hunt for krayt dragon pearls. He took a party into the desert, and he perished. One of the guides saw it all."

"I…see," Bastila said heavily. "So what do you want from me? Credits?"

"Don't be insulting. I want you to use those senses of yours if you can. I'd like you to find and bring back his datacron."

"Why? So you can sell it?" Bastila asked.

"Is it too much to ask that I have something to remember your father by?" She threw up her hands. Of course it is, isn't it? You can't be bothered."

"We're on a mission from the Jedi Council, not on a treasure hunt, Mother. I doubt we'll have the time."

"Ms. Shan," Mission asked. She wished Kairi were here. Kairi always seemed to know what to say or not say in situations like this. "You are really sick, aren't you?"

"It doesn't seem to have anything to do with what she was asking," Bastila said. "Are you actually ill, mother?"

"It would make no difference to you, I'm sure. Just find your father's datacron and you won't have to worry about me ever again."

"And that's the response I would expect," Bastila said. "Very well, we'll look if we've a chance. I can't promise more than that."

"The krayt cave is in the Eastern Dune Sea, past the Sand People enclave. I would check along that route. Do please hurry."

Bastila turned around and left the room. Mission felt very sorry for the older woman, even if she was giving it back as hard as Bastila could throw it. Between Bastila flying off the handle at Kairi and her behavior towards her mother, Mission was confused…and concerned. Unfortunately, Zaalbar wouldn't be able to help with this. Human nature flew over his furry head. Kairi would excuse Bastila's actions too readily, and she didn't know Juhani well enough yet. She'd have to take this to Carth. He might know what to do.

She returned to the main room to see Kairi asking Bastila what happened in there, and Bastila giving her a dry rundown of her encounter with Helena. Mission bit her tongue when she saw how cool Bastila appeared.

"She certainly did upset you," Kari pointed out. “What happened?”

"I told you we never got along. Obviously, it has not changed," Bastila sighed heavily. "And now…now Father is dead. It leaves a hollow inside you can't imagine, even though it has been so long…"

“Bastila,” Kairi insisted. “You’ve lost your father, and your mother is gravely ill. Maybe you just need to talk somewhere privately. The rest of the crew will understand. Keep your comlink on and we’ll contact you if we need your help.”

“No, we have duties to accomplish and those come first. I…I’ll see to her after that, Kairi.”

“But you are going to look for the holocron, aren’t you?” Mission asked. “C'mon. You find it, bring it to your mom, and maybe things'll work out.”

“Part of me would rather her not have it at all. I don’t like that part.” Clearing her throat, she stood. "I don't wish to talk about this any further."

* * *

While performing maintenance on the ship's hull, Canderous saw a scrawny-looking Twi'lek walked up to him, speaking in Huttese.

_< <"Canderous? Canderous of Ordo?">>_

"I'm he," he answered. "What do you want?"

He fished a datapad out of his dusty, worn-out vest. _< <"Many here know of you, it would seem. Many thought you were dead. One has asked me to deliver a message to you…">>_ He handed it over.

Canderous looked down at it, and fished a credit from his pocket. "I'll meet him at Junix's cantina at the time he asked," he answered neutrally.

The Twi'lek took the credit and slinked off into the shadows. He wasn't interested in touching this one. He was just a messenger, and he had already seen too many Mandalorians rampage in the streets. His best bet was to put as much distance between them as possible…

* * *

The droid shop was a dismal place. Badly lit, badly maintained, and bisected by a long, high counter. The proprietor was an Ithorian that took nips from a flask as he hunkered over a half-functional droid, clumsily attempting to wire servos together. It took him several minutes before he had even noticed the three women in his shop.

_< <"What is this? A customer I don't recognize? Perhaps you bring off-world money to Yuka Laka?>>_

“Our credits are our business,” Bastila said. “But we heard something about your droids.”

_< <”All sales are final, and the merchandise has been tested in my shop. Whatever the owners do to the droid when it leaves my shop is not my responsibility.>> _

Mission rolled her eyes. Kairi crossed her arms on the counter and leaned in. “Actually, we heard that you have a special droid.”

_< <”Oh, you mean HK-47? Yes, it is a very special droid. It appears to be a protocol model—very high quality construction. Seems to be a rare model or prototype. I suspect it's been modified extensively. I even found armor mounts on it. Combat ready, perhaps?">>_

"Handy for if protocol doesn't work," Mission joked.

“We're more interested in the protocol functions,” Kairi said. “How many languages does it speak?”

_< <”Two dozen that I've discovered.>> _

Kairi sniffed with contempt. “That's all?” She switched to Ithorese without so much as a pause. _< <“I speak more than that.”>>_

It seemed to throw Yuka Laka for a moment. Ithorese was notoriously hard for humans to learn. _ <<”Ah, but this droid claims to understand Sand People dialect. Can you do the same?>>_

_< <“Maybe”>> _Kairi said.

_< <”I honestly didn't think anyone would care for protocol droids here. Czerka has plenty of their own protocol models. I figured some dew farmer would buy it to protect their land. It doesn't need to know any more Sand Person dialect than 'stop or I'll blast your head off,' does it?”>>_

_< <”Okay,”>> _Kairi said. _< <If I did want to use it to protect my ship, or hunt on the dunes, how well would it do there? Protocol models with armor mounts just mean they'll take more hits, not that they'll fire back.”>> _

_< <"Oh, it handles weapons. See that hole in the wall behind you? That happened when I gave the kriffing thing a rifle. I was lucky to have the restraining bolt controller in my hand!>> _He shrugged. _ <<The unit is a little uncooperative. They get that way if they go too long with no memory wipe.">>_

"And if the unit becomes more 'uncooperative' after purchase?" Bastila asked.

_< <So, why haven't you wiped its memory?”>>_

_< <”I tried to when I got it, but I can't seem to access its core circuits. It was built for security—very durable. It also claims not to have any access to its memory, anyway. You can leave it alone if you find its mannerisms amusing. The droid may be eccentric, but it is stable – the rifle incident notwithstanding.>> _

_< <”Where did you acquire the droid? You don't seem to know much about it.>>_

_< <I haven't had it long. I acquired it from Czerka’s warehouse. I have a friend there who traded me the droid to cover his gambling debts. He said no one would miss it.">>_

"Gee, doesn't sound suspicious at all," Mission drawled. "Warehouse guys have a bad habit of paying off their debts with other people's property, y'know."

Kairi switched back to Basic. "Show me HK-47."

Yuka Laka opened a door on his counter and let Kairi in. He gestured to a droid standing in the far corner of shop, going back to his repairs and his liquor.

The droid was humanoid in shape, made of durable red metal, slumped over and deactivated. Kairi walked over to it, examining it carefully. When she touched its "forearm" to examine a motor, it powered on with a whine. She jumped back in surprise as its gold photoreceptors snapped on and it jerked upright from its inactive slouch. His synthesized voice was crisp and cheerful in a way Kairi found vaguely sinister.

"Greetings: Hello, prospective purchaser! I am HK-47," He cocked his metal head, the gears whirring. "Query: Would you be so kind as to purchase this model from Yuka Laka? It would serve my purposes to be removed from his ownership."

"A droid who sells himself?" Kairi asked, folding her arms skeptically. "Why would I need to?"

"Disclosure: I am a versatile droid, fluent in verbal and cultural translation. I am also highly skilled in combat should your needs be more….practical.”

Kairi felt dizzy for a moment, probably from the insane, oven-like temperatures inside the shop. Putting a hand against the wall to steady herself, she saw a brief image play on the inside of her eyelids – a droid like this one standing among the Tatooine dunes at night, the burning ruins of a camp surrounding it. As fast as it entered her mind, it was gone again.

Kairi shook her head to combat the dizzy feeling and looked up at the droid. "Rumor has it you speak a Sand People dialect."

"Statement: that is true, but no one has expressed interest in THAT part of my programming. It is only one of several…exotic functions. Observation: You are not a farmer or businessperson. You are armed, and comfortable being so. You seek to go hunting outside the gates of Anchorhead, yes? I can serve you well in that regard."

“You heard me? I thought you were inactive.”

“Disclosure: I powered down my gross motor functions out of boredom. I have little desire to talk to the broken scrap heaps around this shop or that drunken fool of a merchant.”

“Does he know you talk about him like this?”

"Statement: I wish only to be purchased away from this poorly-skilled oaf. I have no need to be subtle. Err…of course. I shall be quite pleasant to you if you purchase me away from this fate. Please?"

That claim was dubious at best, but utility was more important. “All right, then. I'd like to hear more about your combat functions.”

“Refusal: It is not desirable for me to reveal core functions while still in the possession of Yuka Laka, prospective purchaser.”

“Why ration information now?”

“Explanation: I have been recently fitted with a restraining bolt, if you must know. With it in place, access to much of my memory core is restricted. Not to mention that the fool Ithorian might raise his asking price if he knew more... or make inquiries into my history. Neither outcome is beneficial to me.”

Kairi folded her arms, and quoted something she had heard from Janice Nall as she was showing them around her Taris droid shop. “I’ve heard rumors that combat droids are predisposed to turn on their owners, and require those restraining bolts to make certain they don’t.”

“Objection! I am a law-abiding droid. Yes, indeed. Law abiding, that is me. Merely a protocol droid with a few...upgrades.”

"Not the most convincing I see.” Kairi could see the armor mounts now, and glanced over to the substantial, charred hole in the pourcrete. “Maybe it's best you stay with that bolt in place, then."

"Objection: My functions are wasted here, prospective purchaser!" He almost seemed to whine. "Would you sooner see me in the hands of some Czerka worker drone or moisture farmer?"

This droid was obviously not as stable as Yuka Laka wanted to claim. Droids also could not lie, so as far as HK-47 knew, he _did_ speak the Sand Person dialect. There was also that creeping, itching feeling in her head when it came to him. The droid was _important_ somehow.

“All right, say I do purchase you. What is to say that you won’t turn your ‘exotic’ functions on to my crew…or on me?”

"Statement: It is expressly forbidden for me to harm my master. It is the first protocol built into all droids, including myself. Disclosure: I may be autonomous, but lack resources. It is therefore impractical to turn on those who would keep me in working order.”

"I'll have to haggle with Yuka Laka about price."

“Advisement: I have also noticed that he is a coward. He will be responsive to…aggressive bargaining."

"I'll take that under advisement, HK-47. Thank you."

* * *

“I don’t need an escort,” Canderous said. “Especially one of your kind…”

“Would you be referring to my face or my lightsaber?” Juhani asked. “Because I am equally fond of your kind.” She stood to his side. “Even if you do not wish to divulge details or take a comlink, please tell us when you plan to return.”

“I rescued these people from Taris already. I don’t owe them a thing past that.”

Juhani rolled her eyes. “If you persist in being foolish, I will not stand in you way.”

He put his cannon in its sling. “Fine by me.”

Canderous walked past Juhani and down the ramp. She was glad to be rid of him, and a good deal of her wished him good fortune in never coming back.

Yet…yet…something nagged at her. This was not a safe planet. Even if she despised what he was, he was still a member of the crew, and there with the Council's approval. Master Quatra always insisted that those who did not believe themselves in need of aid often turned out to be the ones who would eventually need it the most.

Sighing and putting her lightsaber on her belt, Juhani hit the ramp button and hoped she would be wrong.

* * *

Yuka Laka went over and took off the restraining bolt. Kairi could have sworn the droid smiled. "Thank you! Am I to accompany you now? Shall I kill something for you?"

“Did I hear that correctly?" Kairi ventured carefully. "‘Kill something?”"

"Answer: Indeed. I am most eager to engage in unadulterated violence. At your command, of course, Master. I will enter into your service now, and I am certain you will make adequate use of my functions. My gears are practically quivering with anticipation!"

_Oh, damn…I hope those protocols work.._ Kairi made a check over the droid again. Well, at least she was the one in control of the droid, and not some Czerka middle manager with grandiose delusions.

Bastila looked askance at Yuka Laka, who merely shrugged and counted his newly-acquired credit vouchers. _< <”It's yours now, spacers.>>_

Kairi wondered if there might be a way to curb the droid's violent tendencies. She would have to take it back aboard the ship and work with T3-M4 to try and place strict limits on HK-47's ability to cause mayhem. For now, at least, she knew that the droid's bloodthirsty mania was under her control.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bastila warned.

"So do I," she said warily. "But if this thing is our only chance of bringing a solution to the Sand Person trouble without being outnumbered several hundred to one, I'll take it. And we'll find trouble soon enough knowing our luck," Kairi said. "Come, HK, travel with me now."

* * *

Canderous walked back into Junix’s Cantina and sat at the bar. Junix acknowledged him with a nod and set a pint of ale in front of him before making the rounds, filling up and carting away glasses before getting around to him.

It tasted even worse today than had yesterday. It certainly matched his mood. After downing it, his stomach felt sour and his head was starting to pound – definitely a bad batch. When Junix came back around, Canderous leaned in.

“Let’s make this quick,” Canderous said. “Someone here wants a fight?”

“Back room of the cantina…” Junix put a keycard on the table. “Just head on back, he's expecting you.”

As soon as Canderous vanished to the back, Junix shoved his hands in his pockets, rubbing the vial he'd stashed there nervously.

The “back room” was a subbasement beneath the cantina, lit by glowrods and accessible by a narrow ramp way. The cantina was built on top of the last settlement of Anchorhead, meaning that there was an entire half-buried city right beneath the streets of the current one. He couldn’t see anyone in the current room. Perhaps they were behind the doorway that was on the opposite end of the room. He was about to open it when he heard the whine of a blaster…two blasters.

“Hands off the cannon, Canderous,” the creepy, nasal monotone gave it away. Slowly turning, he saw Calo Nord backed up by two armed Rodians.

“Calo,” he said. “How did you escape Taris? By crawling under a rock?”

“Funny, considering you and that woman tried to kill me. I’ll just be taking back the ship you stole, along with my usual fees.”

“Who’s paying you, Calo? Davik’s dead…”

A bit of a smile under the white cowl. “Whoever said I working _for_ Davik? In either case, you won’t live long enough to know, will you?” Calo shrugged. “I could have had it all if you and that woman hadn’t decided to get cute at the last minute. You were crazy to try and double cross me.”

“What can I say? Her face is prettier than yours.” By now, Canderous was feeling very sick, and it dawned on him…poison! That low-life bartender must have slipped it in the ale!

“It’s not fatal…not for a big ape like you, Canderous. Besides, someone else wants to do the honors…”

Canderous shuddered, and his whole world went black.

* * *

Leaving the droid shop, they twisted through the narrow alleyways and crumbling stucco on their way back to the ship. Refuse bins were overflowing with all matter of cast offs from passing starships and Czerka waste. This place was worse than The Maze of Upper Taris! Kairi and HK-47 took the lead with Mission and Bastila trailing. Mission hadn't seen the hand that reached from the shadows and quickly gagged her, but Kairi sensed the girl’s fear and halted, reaching for the saber on her belt.

The world narrowed. She could sense their murderous intent, greed, and smug satisfaction at having got the drop on them.

Two of them had Mission, one of them using her as a shield. Kairi turned when she sensed two more behind her. They were dressed in dark colored robes – three men and a woman—all human. Half-masks covered their faces, and the terrible hum of an energy blade broke the still air.

Dark Jedi.

"Well, HK," Kairi said, barely above a whisper. "I hope you weren't boasting about those combat functions."

Their leader, a tall man with the slim build of a duelist, held a double-bladed red lightsaber at Makashi ready, arm outstretched with the blade lit and perfectly straight. "Lord Malak was most displeased when he found you'd escaped Taris alive. He's promised a great reward to whoever destroys you."

HK-47's photoreceptors turned the color of the man's lightsaber for a moment as he dropped into a threatening stance. "Statement: My master will be most pleased to see you meatbags reduced to bloody piles of tissue!"

Weapons were drawn – Bastila and the leader with their double-bladed lightsabers, Kairi and two others with single-bladed sabers. The one holding Mission was an apprentice armed with a nasty-looking vibroblade.

Kairi shouted to HK-47. "Save Mission!"

"Acknowledged!"

Bastila took on two of them, her gold, double-edged saber giving her greater latitude to hold off multiple opponents. Kairi took on the leader one on one.

The apprentice backed up, hooking one arm around Mission’s neck and using the other to hold the blade to her back. In this position, he was using the girl as a shield.

"Demand: You will release your hostage, or I will reduce you to a pile of broken parts!"

The silly organic did not listen. Instead, he disobeyed. He dared to laugh! The hand that held the knife thrust forward and the Twi'lek girl stiffened, her eyes going wide with shock and her face turning a distressing shade of pale azure.

Hostage situation just went critical. Meatbag did not listen. Meatbag would pay…

Kairi felt more than heard Mission’s cry of pain, the blade sinking into her back. The pain hit Kairi as if she had been the one stabbed. She staggered back, and Makashi duelist tried to take advantage. She narrowly parried the attack coming for her and fell back.

A dark paralyzing fear crept into her mind along with the awareness of Mission’s dire injuries. Most of the time, the blur of combat dulled the empathy, reduced it to simple _kill or be killed_. This time, the pain crept past the shielding Zhar tried to train in her. Her attacker was also pulling on the Dark Side's emotional spectrum—rage, anger, fear—trying to push it into her mind. It was a nastier cousin to the “standard” Jedi mind trick techniques.

She could feel it working. Her defense suffered. Soresu required focus and calm. She was able to counter the precise strikes of her opponent, but only barely. It took more effort, more work.

So this is what Bastila meant, Kairi thought bitterly. To become _attached_ was to risk. And now these half-Sith were going to destroy her, Bastila, and Mission.

She remembered the graul. _Not without a fight._

Jedi – even Dark ones – worked with surface emotion. When it came to the Mind Trick or emotional projection, they were much more limited than one would think. The conventional way to resist Force-induced horror was to empty one's mind of all emotions and let it pass.

Kairi had other ideas. Forcing herself to look up, she took the fear that her attacker was trying to jam into her mind and became a mirror, _throwing it back_ at him.

The Dark Jedi hadn't been expecting it. He screamed and stumbled away, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the lightsaber, much less fight with it. He made a clumsy attack at a Shii-Cho slash that Kairi easily countered before dispatching him.

Gleeful at the thought of being able to utilize what he was designed for, a panel on HK-47’s shoulder slid back. His eyes went red as the hidden weapon sprang out and the purple beam found its mark. Too bad it was only a stun ray, even if the howl the target made was most satisfying. The power charge jolted to the Twi'lek hostage. HK-47 paid that no heed. Master had specified a target, and HK-47 would terminate target.

The Sith apprentice dropped his hostage as he fell backwards, whimpering deplorably as he held up a hand and tried to scoot away. HK-47 let out a tinny, satisfied chuckle as the second panel slid open. He wondered if his flamethrower still worked…

FOOSH! Oh, it worked nicely! The apprentice's robes caught ablaze. The target writhed and screamed as he tried to roll around to put out the fire to no avail, flopping like a stranded fish while HK-47's olfactory sensors detected the stench of roasting flesh. The droid witnessed this with satisfaction, and picked up the flaming meatbag, dumping him into a trash compactor full of rags, damaged cans of industrial chemicals, spent fuel cells, and other flammable debris.

Slinging the injured party member over his shoulder, HK-47 made a quick exit from blast range. A plume of fire shot several meters in the air. The durasteel exterior was barely sufficient to contain the impressive pyrotechnics, making it look like a feather pillow beaten with a sledgehammer. HK-47 walked out of the cloud of flames, eyes still glowing red.

The former hostage Twi'lek, designation “Mission,” had a frighteningly large bloodstain on her back, the bleeding stemmed somewhat by the knife still in place. HK-47 noted that she had second-degree burns on her arms and head-tails, and had lost consciousness. Yet, she was functional...barely. He placed Mission on the ground before scanning for other targets.

Two Dark Jedi were dead, and the other two were engaged in combat. The male with the single-bladed saber backed out of Bastila’s reach. HK-47 assumed that he was retreating until he appeared to sail backwards through the air onto a pile of crates. He summoned purple energy in his hand. Bastila tried to attack, but he shot out with the gathered energy, a jolt of sick-looking purple lightening blasting from his fingers.

The female resumed her attack on Kairi, wielding the saber with one hand as she squeezed her fist in a choking motion. Kairi staggered back, attempting to resist the Force choke and keep up her lightsaber defense.

Of course, they ignored the droid—fatal error.

Two shoulder panels were down, and the dual weapons were trained on the Dark Jedi. HK-47 used both weapons on the one Force-choking Kairi, the attack turning her into a writhing, fast-cooking hunk of animal protein. Holding her out as far as he could, HK-47 then saw to her swift end by throwing her towards the remarkable pyre he had made out of the trash bin.

The remaining Dark Jedi, seeing he was cornered without support, tried to flee. HK-47 took several leaping steps to close the gap. He picked up the Dark Jedi by the throat, feeling a moment of satisfaction in watching his eyes bulge and his flesh take a bluish tinge.

“Warning: Attacking my master is grounds for termination, meatbag!”

As the Dark Jedi flailed uselessly in the droid’s grip, HK-47 shifted the pressure subtly, crushing the larynx, and terminating the final target. Bastila and Kairi were free of their assailants, but still looked pale and shaky.

Kairi ran to Mission’s side. The bleeding was bad- and so were the burns. At least she was alive. Applying pressure to stop the blood flow, Kairi shakily tried to still her mind long enough to stabilize her using the Force.

"Apology: Master, I could not halt the Dark Jedi from harming your party member.”

“I’ve got her stable,” Kairi said. Mission’s color looked a little less pale, but Kairi was turning ashen. “But she’ll die without the medical supplies on the ship. Come on.”

Quickly, Bastila searched the bodies that the assassin droid had spared immolation. The leader had a datapad. A monarch’s ransom in credits had been promised by Darth Malak himself for the capture or termination of the _Ebon Hawk’s_ crew. Detailed descriptions appeared. Bastila expected her name and Carth’s to be on the list – their actions for the Republic naturally would gain the wrong kind of Sith attention. What made her ill, however were the descriptions of the others – Canderous, Zaalbar…even Mission.

Kairi’s entry was last…but it made Bastila’s blood freeze. Quickly tucking it in her robes before anyone else saw it, she caught up with the rest of the party as they limped back to the _Ebon Hawk_.


	4. Sand in All the Wrong Places

Basic Force-healing was considered a rudimentary skill for apprentices, but it still was tiring work, even when augmented with the copious medical supplies aboard. The _Ebon Hawk_ had one converted stateroom close to the bridge that had been designated a sickbay. Kairi had demonstrated great aptitude for healing under Zhar's tutelage, but this was no exercise.

Hauling in an unconscious and injured Mission sent the whole place into an uproar, and that made it more difficult for Kairi to block them out. Zaalbar’s fear was the worst. Bastila herded Zaalbar away from the scene, her hands full with soothing the panicked Wookiee. Carth was backing Kairi up with the medpacks, adding his limited field medicine skills. Kairi thanked the Force for his presence. Years spent in war had given him the ability to push aside his own emotions to focus on survival.

Kairi concentrated on reaching Mission. The injuries were awful, vibroblades doing much greater internal damage than a simple knife would. She had lost a dangerous amount of blood. Dropping into a Force-assisted trance, not caring about the horrible suffocating feeling it brought, Kairi searched for that little light that was Mission's life.

She found that light. Despite the gravity of the situation, Mission had an immensely strong will to live. Gripping the girl’s hand, Kairi willed strength into her injured companion, pulling the injuries into her own being.

Kairi's own muscles went rigid from the pain while seeing flashes of the battle through Mission’s emotions – the panic, the fear of dying, and the intense pain of injuries. She could feel the vibroblade's sting, the blood seeping out her back. It threatened to make her black out. The temptation to let go was almost overpowering, but Kairi stubbornly continued.

The cost to her didn’t matter. Mission wasn’t going to perish.

In the Force, Kairi took the pain and injury, transmuted it, too far into the trance to notice the rasping, gurgling sound of her own breathing as she did. The vibroblade had glanced off Mission's shoulder blade, which slowed it somewhat. Blood and leaking gasses were pulled out as vessels and tissue knitted.

During the process, Mission regained consciousness. HK-47’s pyrotechnics had left second-degree burns on her arms, legs, back, and (most painfully) her head-tails. The girl was gritting her teeth and going ashen trying not to scream. Carth told her she was taking it like a soldier, and that she was free to curse like one if needed. _That_ brought a chuckle, followed by a barrage of gutter-speak that would have impressed a master sergeant.

The kolto and Force work did their job. Kairi felt that wonderful feeling of surfacing from the dark, pulling Mission with her as they surfaced. It was done. Conventional medicine could handle the rest. Bandages applied, a treatment cuff of more kolto and saline helping with the blood loss, Mission’s injuries were sure to heal now. Kairi was barely conscious from the exertion, but held herself together long enough to administer Mission a sedative.

“You’re safe now,” Kairi assured her. “Your wounds will heal with some rest.”

“You okay, Kairi?” Mission asked. “You look –“

“Just tired,” she said, taking a blanket and pulling it across Mission’s slender shoulders. “I was using Force powers to help ease the pain and speed up your healing. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

Mission weakly squeezed Kairi’s hand as the sedative took effect. “Thanks…”

Kairi leaned over and kissed Mission on the forehead like a mother would do to comfort her child. The girl was asleep in minutes.

Carth leaned back against the bulkhead. “Thank the Creator,” he said, exhaling a tense breath. “Four Dark Jedi?”

Kairi nodded shakily. “One of them got the drop on Mission. I have to be glad he was the apprentice and was just using a vibroblade, or else…” She shuddered, watching Mission sleep.

Carth nodded. “She’ll be okay, Kairi. The differences between Twi'lek physiology and human worked in our favor. A couple centimeters either way, and it could have been much worse.”

She stood up and tried to walk out, her steps wobbly from exhaustion. Carth caught her as she was about to stumble. He guided her over to a bench and sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to keep her upright. His unshielded mind was blasting out concern and relief. He was also shaken by how close they came to losing Mission.

“Hey, Kairi. Take it easy.”

“Somehow, word must have got out that Bastila escaped Taris, and that she’s traveling with us.” Kairi said, exhaustion catching up with her. “Mission…I was able to help her this time, but…

He looked over at Mission. “That was close…too close.” Carth swallowed hard. “I don’t like losing people under my command. Had to see it too damn often. Never gets easier, and Mission…well, she’s an asset – a powerful one. Her skills, her street smarts…”

Kairi looked up at him, eyebrow raised, trying to smile through her weariness. It only made him laugh.

“All right…I should know better than to try that with you, shouldn’t I? All right, I’ll admit it. I like the kid. She’s bright, she’s tough…you and she are the only ones I’d wager could charm credits from a Hutt. Seems hard to believe that we only met her a couple months ago. Seems hard to believe I met you a couple months ago, actually.”

Kairi nodded tiredly. Carth brushed away her black hair and started rubbing her neck. She leaned into it, sighing as he worked the knots from her neck and shoulders. “I…I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at you choosing to be a Jedi, Kairi. It…it fits you."

“Considering what you've said about Jedi, that is no compliment,” she said.

“That…that was pretty dumb of me. Come to think of it, I’ve been acting like a complete jerk towards you this whole time, and you’ve been the last person to earn that. I’m…I’m sorry, Kairi. Guess I got so used to expecting the worst…believing the worst.”

His callused thumb pressed in to loosen a particularly tight knot at the base of her neck. A brief, licentious thought crossed her mind about what those hands might be like when it came to something far less chaste then a neck rub, but she scolded herself for it.

“You’re still wearing that?” he asked. He pointed to her hand. She had moved the mock ring of twisted wire to her right hand, but that was the only concession.

“I made sure it is not sending the wrong signal. Human cultures don’t use promise bands on the right hand.”

“Not what I mean. That’s just scrap wire.”

“It was still a gift. Your intention in making it was to protect me.” She smiled sadly. “I kept it to remind me of your kindness.”

Carth tried to speak, then stopped. It was his third attempt before he finally spoke. His emotions were too much of a knot to get a clear reading on any one thread. “I have a bad feeling that wherever you were before, whoever you were before, you didn’t have anyone who looked out for you. Someone had to break formation; might as well be me.”

Kairi curled in on herself. Having a new purpose helped distract her from the fact she still knew nothing about what she had been prior to Taris and would likely never know. “Thank you,” she said. “For being here.”

Confusion from him, and curiosity. “Why’s that? I mean… We’re running around the galaxy on a search for these Star Maps, and I don’t know how much help I can be. I can fight, sure, but I’m no Jedi..”

“Not that,” she said. “It’s you…your presence. I wish there was a way to let you understand just how helpful you’ve been, just by being…being you.”

He pulled his hand away, looking into nothing. “Kairi, don’t take this the wrong way, but… How well, really, do you know me? For all you know, maybe I'm not such a good guy. I…I must be one of the first things you can remember, so it's small wonder you think I'm this great person when you haven't seen -" He cleared his throat, scooting away from her. "Well, you probably think I’m a better guy than I am."

There was a long silence as they watched Mission sleep. While the minds of sentients were unguarded as they slept, they did not have the will and active concentration behind their emotions. It was like listening to echoes. Right now, Mission was having happy dreams, maybe remembering something with her brother or scampering about Taris.

The thought of Taris devastated Kairi. So much suffering and death, and not a damn thing they could do but save their own skins. Had she been Jedi at that point, it might have overloaded her...maybe even killed her. Even now, thinking of it made her feel hollow. The place of her earliest clear memories was gone forever.

As if reading her mind, Carth told her, “I recognized who shot us down over Taris, Kairi. It was Saul. His ship led the bombing, too. I was actually looking forward to facing him. We were so close. If he hadn’t got the drop on us…”

“And when Saul bombed Taris, it must have been like…”

“Not quite,” he said quietly, looking up at Mission. “At least on Taris, there was someone I could save.” Leaning forward, he studied the deck plates as he spoke. "If I went back out to the front, I’d just be one more officer out there against the Sith fleet. This…well, if this ‘Star Forge’ is what the Jedi suspect, then we can bring Malak to his knees by cutting his supplies. This might actually make a difference.”

Kairi could do little but agree. “A promise, then. I promise I will not keep anything about this quest from you, if you promise that you will work with us. Does that sound fair?”

She put out her hand, and it got another smile out of Carth. He reached over and shook on it. “You cut a pretty hard bargain, beautiful,” he said. “But it’s more than fair.”

Canderous awoke, and almost wished he hadn’t. Cold iron chains confined him to a thick wall. He had been dragged down here roughly, judging by the bruises and cuts that his implant was regenerating. It was still working on filtering out the poison, too, judging by the way his guts were cramping.

No sooner had he dared to open his eyes than a violent backhand slammed his head against the wall.

"Welcome to the Mandalorian Quarter, Canderous."

That voice…He gasped and his eyes flew open. The man's armor was battered and rusted, but it was definitely Mandalorian. The markings were of his own clan! His captor took off the helmet. He was a bit smaller then Canderous, but had the same iron eyes. His long, unkempt hair was only starting to go gray, but his square-jawed face boasted several scars and an eyepatch.

"J…Jagi?"

"Surprised to see me? You left me to die, kinsman. Because of you, I had similar accommodations in an Altheri dungeon. I thought it appropriate."

"Resorting to poison and the aid of Calo Nord?" Canderous laughed despite his position. "Didn't think it was your style."

"And I hadn't believed that you would abandon your people to seize glory. I found out otherwise. At least you could have died in Mandalore's cause, drowned in the gravity well at Malachor, but no…you live on while the rest of our people are reduced to petty raiders and mercenaries, or have to eke out a living herding bantha on a gods-forsaken rock like this."

"What is it you want from me?"

Jagi folded his arms. "Nothing more than for you to sit and rot. Calo Nord has other plans, though, and so do I. I've told the other clans about your arrival here, Canderous. They thought you died when Revan boarded Mandalore's flagship, but once we got word you were alive, we figured out what happened. You must have fled like a coward."

"Damn it, Jagi, that's not what happened. And if I were free of these chains, I would snap your neck for that kind of slander!"

"Slander? Slander was telling us you would support us when you were actually leading us to die. You disobeyed orders to attack the Altheri flagship to seek glory for yourself. I watched the Altheri slaughter my brothers, and my blood will be paid for with yours. No one here will aid you. Farewell, kinsman…"

Jagi turned around and left.

Bastila and Kairi led Carth down the dusty alleys of Anchorhead, hurrying past the spot where they'd fought the Dark Jedi yesterday. Black scorch marks and the stench of smoke hung in the air. To no one's great surprise, the place had been stripped—no bodies, no equipment. Even the remains of the trash bin had been claimed, though only the Force would know who would have use for such a thing.

The Ithorian in charge of the hunting lodge, Fazza, was operating one of the only thriving business ventures in Anchorhead. Weapons behind the counter, drinks and meals in a side room, and the boisterous atmosphere of post-hunt boasting made for a thriving trade. Paying their fee, he proudly issued the hunting licenses.

<<Most hunters come here for desert wraid or for howlers. Some of them hunt the bone-gnawer birds – those are nastier than they look, but live young are worth a fortune. Czerka, though, pays the big credits for gaffi sticks. You'd have to be stupid to hunt for those. The Sand People blend in with the desert and hunt in packs. Most hunters don't last a day. The gaffis that do come in are from when someone loots a corpse or has to shoot a scout in self-defense. Czerka won't ask questions, though...>>

The three of them split up to work the room. Hopefully, they could find a good scout to take them into the desert, or maybe one of these hunters knew of old ruins. Kairi found a Rodian with a Pazaak deck in the far corner.

<<“Greetings, stranger, I am Kudos. Fewer new faces come to his planet.”>>

“Greetings yourself, I’m Kairi. Are you a hunter?”

_< < “Used to be a hunter,”>>_ Kudos said, stretching out a crude prosthetic leg from under the table. _< <“But got my leg injured. I make my living playing Pazaak and doing odd jobs. The owner lets me stay in the apartments above here. Not much, but it’s home. The hunters, they trust me. Care for a game?”>>_

Kairi sat across from him, pulling the Pazaak deck from the inside pocket of her robe. Bastila had looked at her strangely for wanting to bring it along, but Mission chimed in saying that it might be a good way to earn a few credits and that in a place like this, a game of Pazaak was always a good way to start a conversation. Turned out Mission was correct after all.

“Has anything odd been found of late? Artifacts? Ruins?”

_< <“Ah! You not an ordinary hunter then – you a digger. Well, there is a lot under the sand, I think. No one wants to bother, though. Easier to destroy than dig.”>>_ The Rodian shrugged as he dealt the cards. _< <“Might want to ask Fortuna when he gets here. He’s a yellow Twi’lek. Doesn’t talk much. He’s the best hunter in this lodge – goes out further than anyone. I like him, he has a Rodian’s appreciation for a good hunt – most Twi’lek and humans are…well, I think they’re too lazy. No offense intended.”>>_

Kairi chuckled. “None taken.”

_< <“Other hunters…Well, Venn is a human. He comes here for wenching. And he hunts with _droids _! I pity his wife, married to a bad specimen. Few of us like him much. The Gammorean trio tends to bring in scrap and weapons. They call it salvage, but I think they hunt two legged prey…” >>_ Kudos smiled. _< <“But Komad Fortuna, he tougher than all of them put together…”>>_

Bastila shook her head, watching as Kairi and Kudos dealt the cards and conversation. “She never passes up an opportunity to squander our credits at the gaming table, does she?”

Carth waved it off. “I think I know what she’s really doing. Besides, she’s good at this – it’s what bought us most of our supplies on Taris.”

“Using the Force for gambling? Oh, the Masters would be appalled to hear of it.”

Carth rolled his eyes. “We’re parsecs away from them, Bastila, and I don’t think Kairi uses the Force on that…not actively. Maybe her empathy, but that’s switched on anyway.” He shrugged. “She’s got a decent set of instincts. It’s what I’d do.”

“Sit and play while there’s work to be done?”

That got a laugh out of him. “You really haven’t spent much time in the field, have you? No, I learned a while back that the best way to find out what’s really going on in a place like this is to head for the most burnt-out specimen you can find that’s still sober enough to answer a few questions. The official reports and the unofficial reports are vastly different entities, believe me.”

Bastila crossed her arms, tapping her foot. “And where did you pick up such a disrespect for authority?”

“A fellow named Goresh. He was my bunkmate out on my second tour. Bothan, really bright, angered his family when he signed up for the military. Those guys prefer the quiet and sneaky life to one of a soldier. Still knew just where to find the dirt, though.” Carth stopped his jovial recollection. “He later joined Republic Intelligence. Got killed by the Mandalorians.” They headed for the most crowded of the two back rooms, Carth watching Bastila out the corner of his eye. "Speaking of Mandalorians, Bastila, did you ever think about joining the Jedi who were running off to follow Revan and Malak?"

Bastila shook her head. "That was five years ago. I was an apprentice then. My Battle Meditation hadn't even manifested itself. Yet, even then, I had the wisdom to obey the Council's will—unlike Revan."

"I guess. Still, you ever wonder if things could have been different? Would Revan and Malak still have been corrupted if the Council was supporting them rather than dragging its feet?"

"Do not blame Revan's corruption on the Council! Your Republic saw only the Mandalorians. The wisdom of the Masters saw beyond the immediate threat."

"Excuses, excuses…"

"There was something out there, something that devoured Revan and Malak and took many Jedi with them. Had the Council sent us all into the unknown, how many more would have fallen? The Republic armies only incited them further."

"You're sitting here, with a straight face, telling me we should have done absolutely nothing—just roll over and let them conquer us? Oh, I'm sure Canderous would approve."

"Canderous is little more than a common thug with delusions—as were all the Mandalorians. It was not our fight."

"Same _osik_ , different planet."

"For a man who's battled Mandalorians, you certainly have a great fondness for their ruder phrases."

"Those settlers on Dantooine had a point. The Jedi put on this big show about being the great defenders of the Republic. We were getting our tails kicked, Bastila. You were shut up in your Enclaves, gazing at your navels, while Republic worlds and citizens burned. When we needed your aid the most, you up and abandon us."

"We did not abandon you! In time, we would have aided the Republic, I'm certain. The Council wasn't willing to throw lives away foolishly, and your kind couldn't wait."

"You didn't see what those guys were dishing out. So long as it didn't affect your kind, you couldn't be bothered. The citizens on Dantooine needed help against the Mandalorians, and the Enclave didn’t lift a finger. It took Canderous and me to take down Sherruk, and he'd been around for a year before that."

"Yes, and you both acted like bored little boys—only with heavy weapons and your lives at stake, thinking it was some grand game. Perhaps Revan and Malak charged in with the same attitude—just another adventure. They offered the quick and easy path, and the Republic grasped at it rather than trusting the path of wisdom. The results speak for themselves."

"Do they?"

Her voice was just shy of a snarl. "You ask me if things would be different? I _know_ they would be different. Had Revan heeded the council, millions of innocent people would still be alive."

"Yeah, right, and every last one of them would be speaking _Mando'a_."

Bastila shook her head. “I can see that discussions with you are a waste of time. I shall go to the other back room and try my luck there.”

After finishing a friendly hand with Kudos, and learning the lodge’s gossip, she left to find Bastila and Carth, taking the crowded back room first. Three Gammoreans squealed with delight in a corner as they sharpened their axes and counted credits. One human man studied a datapad while another was enjoying a stiff ale. Upon noticing Kairi, the second human leered at her, a predatory lust stirring the air like a smell.

Kairi gave that human a wide berth, coming close to the Gammoreans' table. Their leader squealed with laughter when Kairi walked over, grunting in his porcine language. _< <"What you want, humee sow? Gurke has no time for you.">>_

_< <"Yeah, you tell 'em, Gurke!">>_ said the one to Gurke's right, snorting.

"What if I wanted advice?" Kairi said, attempting to flatter them. They were painfully easy to read. Riches, glory, praise, food drink and rut; crude and limited pleasures. The species wasn’t known for high degrees of intelligence. "I'm sure you three are very smart."

<<"Ha, ha, boys, it talk to me. You trying to get my secrets, I bet. Try to find where I hunt, eh? I tell you nothing.">>

<<"Yeah, you get nothing.">> said Gurke's second toady.

"Actually, I'm looking for something out in the desert. Are you three good scouts?"

_< <"Oh, we the best among everybody, but not for you. We hunters know more than everybody,">>_ Gurke chortled. _< <"Gurke and his boys hunt! That's what we do and who we are, and we don't train babies like you.">>_

The smallest of the bunch pointed at them. _< <"Yeah, you go out to the dunes yourself. Then, maybe you tough enough to talk to us. Probably not, though.">>_

_< <"Heh. Yeah, probably not,">>_ heckled the second. _< <"Bet you don't come back.">>_

<<"Shut up, stupid.">>

The sheer amount of bravado and stupidity was almost mind-killing. "Why don’t you let him speak?”

_< <"What? You deaf?>>_ Gurke laughed. _< <He stupid and talk too much! You leave us alone now.">>_

<<"I am not stupid! You stupid!">>

<<"You too stupid to know you stupid!">>

Kairi felt Carth’s presence even before he put a hand on her shoulder and spoke. "Lost cause, Kairi. Only thing Gammoreans understand, apparently, is a blaster pointed at their foreheads."

The second lead was Tanis Venn, the human that was leering at her earlier. He was sitting in the back corner, blaster on the table next to a stack of credit vouchers. He slicked back his dark, thinning hair, and wore clothing that had been battered by the desert with far too much cologne. Kairi approached his table.

“Mr. Venn?”

He looked up from counting his money. “Did the wife send you? Tell her I’m busy.”

“Fazza and Kudos sent me, not your wife,” Kairi explained. “I may be in need of your services.”

He stood up and stuffed the credits in his pocket, putting on a smile that he supposed was charming. “Sure, darlin’, Tanis can take really good care of you out on the dunes.” He maneuvered himself so that he was a little too close and Kairi wouldn’t be able to escape gracefully. He was still sizing her up. “An itty-bitty thing like you could use the company of a strong man, and I’d not mind one bit.”

The sleazy lust rolling off him made Kairi feel dirty, and it disgusted her even more that she found herself locking down involuntary responses – blood rushing to her face, her heart rate increasing. This man viewed women like the desert beasts he slew – something to trap, overpower, and then boast about until the next prey came along.

Force, it would be easy to push disgust into his mind, pull on his vanity or the fears of impotence that lay beneath it. She set her jaw and fought the temptation, summoning a mental shield to get him out of her mind. Force bless Zhar for teaching her ways to block out someone’s presence.

“Mr. Venn,” Kairi said, keeping her voice even. “I’m really not interested. Just tell me what you know. Have you seen the Sand People with anything unusual?”

“Yeah, my blood. Those natives are only a bit friendlier than my wife…but don’t you worry, lady. I’ll be really good to you…” When his hand started going from her shoulder to her breast, she tried to twist out of his grasp.

Instead, Tanis was yanked away and slammed against the wall. Carth was glowering at him, holding him by the shirt. That got the attention of some of the other hunters who who seemed a scant step from cheering Carth on.

“You treat her with some respect, or you’ll finish this conversation minus a few teeth.” For emphasis, he jerked Tanis’s shirt a little harder. Tanis’s eyes fixed on the holster on Carth’s hip.

“Hey, hey. No…no need to get sore. Didn’t know she was yours,” he stammered.

_I appreciate the thought, Carth, but that's not the smartest tactic._ _It’s attracting far too much attention._ Kairi thought. “Let him go. Not worth the fight.”

Carth let go of Venn’s shirt. Wisely, Venn slinked off. She sighed with relief. She could still feel Carth’s fuming.

“Was that necessary?” she asked.

He attempted to make light of it. “Hey, told you I wasn’t a nice guy, didn’t I?”

Kairi shook her head. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me, especially with fools like him. You know that I could have handled it myself.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “Guess I did go off half-cocked. You Jedi probably have a rule or two about laying a guy out in a bar fight, but I don’t have that restriction.” Another flash of anger from him before he regained his control. “Besides, guys who run around on their wives are right behind traitors on the list people I’d like to shoot. Makes life more difficult for the rest of us human males.”

This actually got a chuckle out of her, followed by a pang of sadness. She took his hand, turning it so that the dim light glinted off the gold band on his left hand.

“She is lucky –whoever she is.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he said, pulling his hand away as a solid wall seemed to crash down around his emotions, locking her out.

As they were about to find Bastila and leave the lodge, a Jawa blocked their path. Barely a meter high, and with all features other than glowing gold eyes hidden beneath an orange-red cloak, he waddled up to Kairi and started chattering in trade pidgin.

<<"You there, of your kind. I have watched you. Saw you hunt the hunters chasing you – you tough! Can you help Iziz of Jawa? There are troubles from the ghosts among the sands.">>

Kairi knelt to better look the Jawa in the eye. The powerful, musky smell of the Jawa was unpleasant, but still better than Tanis's cologne. "What is it you'd like help with?"

<<"Iziz I am. Leader of the tribe that is mine. You are the same in kind, a leader that stands before your tribe?">>

"Leader of our tribe?" Carth said. "Heh. That's a new one."

<<"There are troubles we have. The giants made of sand, they are horned ghosts that take us away.">>

"Giants of sand…” Kairi scowled. “You mean Sand People?"

<<"That is how you know them. Giants are different for us, we being smaller. People of Sand are who I mean. There has been no help given by the great group that digs with machines. Now, Iziz asks you. Long have we scavenged, among you and those who came before. We have things you will like for this service.">>

"They take your people? Why?"

<<"We find things, and they use them. Jawas slave, serving. They lead us with whip and gaffi. With the group that digs, we trade and are free. With People of Sand, we serve and die. We prefer you.">>

"I can see why," Kairi said. Dropping her voice, she asked. "You mentioned 'those who came before.' Who were they?"

_< <"You stand on Anchorhead, a place named and named again. You came to dig, but it was already dug, settled over and over. Also, long ago, ships fell from the sky after battles above. Now, we scavenge and find the pieces. You dig the ore and dirt.”>_> Iziz stretched out his covered hands. _< <”In time from now, we will dig you.">>_

"Hmm," Carth mused, "I wonder just how long ago the little fellow is talking here."

Kairi dropped her voice. "We are looking for a relic…possibly from those who came before. It's called a Star Map."

<<"These are things I know! From those who came before, the guide to lights far and away. I can tell you! East of Sand Giants – in dragon’s cave. Dragon BIG—stops us from digging, but maybe not stop you!">>

Bastila mulled this over. "It may seem convenient, but we've no reason to disbelieve this creature."

Carth sniffed with disbelief. "You're joking, right? Just because he's small doesn't mean he's any more trustworthy than those stupid Gammorean hunters, Bastila. Don't be naive."

"I am not being naive, Carth. I simply sense no deceit here," Bastila said. “And the vision Kairi and I shared indicated the Map was in some kind of large cave. The lair of a krayt would certainly qualify.”

Kairi stood up, brushing the sand off her leggings. “She's right. He's being completely honest...well, as honest as a compulsive trader can be.”

“Well, you might have pointed that out in the first place. Jedi senses I'll trust...” The _“reluctantly”_ didn't have to be added. “Wishful thinking I don't."

"I'm headed to the Sand People's encampment, anyway. I'll look for your tribe's people, Iziz."

_< <"Iziz hopes you have the luck you need!">>_

The three of them went back to the ship to gather supplies and sleep through the worst heat of the day. They would set out in the early evening to avoid the worst of the twin suns’ blistering heat. Hopefully, the claim about the droid’s translation abilities was not exaggeration. At least its combat capabilities were impressive.

T3-M4 and Kairi were spending the few hours they had available to make repairs to HK-47. Kairi held the small sonic spanner in her mouth while she had the droid’s back open. The tangle of circuits and badly wired components made her cringe. Yuka Laka certainly would get no endorsement from her! She wondered how the droid even functioned with such inelegant tinkering to its innards.

Pulling out a chunk of burned-out wires the wrong size, Kairi shook her head. Sloppy, sloppy job! Picking the spanner off the floor, she tightened another connection. In mid-twist, she stopped herself, and put the instrument aside.

There was something familiar about this. Where had she learned all these skills? Carth had been right. Despite the new skills trained into her by Zhar and the other Jedi Masters, she still knew as much about herself now as she did when she had to read her own name from a salvaged datapad. Her translation skills could be explained, her Force abilities could be explained, but when it came to anything else – fixing droids, handling a sword, driving a swoop…she was no closer to knowing how she could do any of it.

“Query: Why have you stopped, Master?”

Kairi shook her head, as if to dislodge something. “It’s…it’s nothing, really.” Deciding against hiding her condition, she spoke to the droid. “This will seem odd, but it’s like I’ve worked with your model before. I’m not certain where, though.”

“Statement: I am of superior design and construction, and my protocols would be attractive to certain buyers. Certainly there are other droids like me, master.”

“Maybe they pulled you off the assembly line and figured you were just too much of an annoyance to make another.” Kairi said.

“Statement: Oh, yes, Master. Humiliate your pet droid.”

She soldered another connection. “You’ve told me about those other owners of yours. They had a tendency to end up dead.”

“Query: Do you know what the odds are of puncturing that sole actuator? I would have congratulated my owner if he were not sizzling and incoherent at the time.”

“And the Senator? And the Hutt?”

“Clarification: When I had found the Senator’s wife and her male companion sharing sleeping arrangements, I proceeded to launch the attack, but my master interposed his own body and was destroyed. It was a rather strange meatbag thing to do, do you not agree? As for the Hutt, I was not present for Bochaba’s demise, but I appreciated the methods used.”

“Hutts are brutal if you cross them.”

“Statement: Bochaba's demise was marvelous, even by the standards of Hutts. I estimate that the locals were picking Bochaba bits from their soup for weeks. Hopefully, with your repairs, Master, I will recover more of my memory core.”

Kairi sighed. “Well, that makes one of us.” She soldered a connection and explained. “My…well, you could say that my memory core was also damaged. Irreparable, according to all I’ve talked to.”

“Exclamation: How tragic for you, Master! I had not been aware that organics such as yourself could endure that indignity.”

Kairi didn’t answer that. Instead, she made her last adjustments and closed the back of the droid’s access panel. “How does that feel?”

“Diagnostic: I am nearly at optimum performance, Master. With these repairs, I can access most of my deleted memory core and performance enhancements.”

“Good,” she said. “Are you ready for new protocols?”

“Statement: Always.”

“All right,” Kairi said. “One, your new function is to guard and protect the _Ebon Hawk_ and her crew. Two, you will attack no member of this crew or guest of the crew. Lastly, should I be incapacitated or terminated, you are to become the property of…”

She thought hard. Bastila and Juhani would not want this dangerous droid, even if it were useful. By contrast, Canderous would have a little too much fun with it at his disposal. Mission and Zaalbar wouldn't know what to do with the droid.

“If I am incapacitated or terminated, you retain your protocols and become the property of Carth Onasi.”

Mission sat in the pilot’s chair, examining the controls and trying to discern what each gauge and panel meant. Her lekku still in bandages and the wound in her back healing, it meant she was stuck on the ship with little else to do.

Gee, there were a lot of switches and knobs here. How in the heck did Carth keep them all straight?

“Feeling better, Mission?”

She just about jumped out of her seat, and felt her cheeks get warm. _Busted._ “Oh, uh…Hi, Carth.”

He chuckled. “Interested in piloting, Mission?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I always want to know how things work, and I guess I’m feeling a little useless.”

“You and me both,” he said.

“Really? Gee, you’re the last guy I’d call useless,” she said. “I’m well…I feel like such a stupid kid. I’m not a soldier like you are. I’m not big and tough like Zaalbar or Canderous, and then there’s…” She admitted sheepishly. “I know Big Z’s gotta stay with Kairi, but I’m surprised you guys haven’t dumped me off at a port somewhere.”

“Why would we do that?”

Mission didn’t really have words, just a shrug.

“Well, if you switch over to the co-pilot chair, I’ll start you out with what the gauges mean.”

Mission got up and settled in the co-pilot’s seat. “Already figured some of it out, I think. That’s the engine readout…the jump calculator…and over there’s the emergency bank for power rerouting.”

Carth sat in the pilot seat. “You’ve got it. How long you’ve been studying the readout on this anyway?”

“Well…since we got on Dantooine, actually,” she sheepishly admitted. “Picked up some data cards to study and watched you fly sometimes.”

Carth laughed. “Shouldn’t be surprised. You’re smart.”

He talked Mission through some of the basics – what the functions were and what they did, joking a bit about some of the mistakes he made in training. He’d been so into teaching her that he didn’t realize how far ahead of himself he was getting.

“Dustil? Who’s Dustil?” she asked.

It stopped him cold. Oh, damn.

He must have been obvious in clamming up because Mission fidgeted in the co-pilot’s chair and stammered. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked,” she said. “But back when you were explaining how the shunts worked, you called me ‘Dustil.’ Are you okay?”

He rubbed his forehead. “I’m okay. Just losing it, that’s all.” He leaned back in the chair. “Slip of the tongue. Last person I ever explained a cockpit to was my son.”

“Your son? You’re a dad?”

“I was a dad…” he said sadly. “Sorry, Mission. I…I didn’t mean to call you that.”

“Well, I’m not Kairi, but you can talk to me if you want,” she said. “Or not. I respect Big Z’s privacy, and I’ll also respect yours.”

“Thanks.”

She folded her hands on her lap. “Um…Carth…I’ve got something I gotta ask you. Is it okay?”

“Fire away.”

“Do you trust Bastila? I mean, I know she’s a Jedi and all, but…well, something’s not right. Kairi and Juhani would probably find some explanation for what she did, but I’m not sure if they’d be covering for her. Not like lying, but they’d excuse it, y’know? Canderous wouldn’t care, and human nature kinda flies over Zaalbar’s head…but I trust you.”

“It’s okay, Mission. What did you see?”

“Did you know Bastila’s mom’s in Anchorhead?”

“Bastila’s mother? No, I didn’t.”

“Well, her mom’s been looking for her. She’s sick – really sick. I’m not human, but even I can tell that much. She wasn’t the friendliest lady, but Bastila acted really nasty to her, saying she was lying about being sick. Well, now her father’s dead and her mom wants her to find his datacron. She said something about not having time and stormed off.”

“Did she cool off later?”

“No. On the way to the droid shop, Kairi had to convince her that they should give it a try, and she said something about being angry with her and wanting to keep the datracron for herself…” Mission looked confused. “Now I know people can get upset sometimes, but that…that’s not the way Jedi are supposed to act, is it?”

“Well, we all can have a bad day once in a while,” he said.

“Well, the stuff with her mom confused me the most…I mean, I did kinda deserve it when she used the Force to trip me. I was acting like a brat.”

Carth's face darkened. “Wait a minute, she used the Force to trip you? What were you doing?”

Mission shrugged. “Well, I asked her if she ever used the Force for fun. She told me that Jedi didn’t do that sort of thing and that she was beyond ‘childish’ stunts like that. Well, I told her she was being stuck up. Next thing I know, I’m picking myself up from the sand.”

“Starting to notice a pattern here. Did Kairi say anything?”

“Well, Bastila did fly off at her, too.”

Carth was trying to keep his jaw shut – street rat or not, there were some words he did not want to use in the presence of a kid. If this were the _Endar Spire_ , it would be addressed as a discipline issue. But what does one do on a boatload of mostly civilians and Jedi, and the discipline problem is technically in charge of the mission? On capitol ships and the like, there were procedures, but here?

“Define ‘flying off’…”

“I…Well, I might have been seeing things or misreading, Carth. I don’t want to make it sound like Bastila’s a bad person or anything…”

“Mission,” Carth assured her. “If there is a problem, then you can come to me with it, okay? And Bastila’s behavior does bother me. But what the heck is this about her and Kairi?”

“Well, I was on my way to tell them both we’d landed when I heard Bastila giving one of her ‘Dark Side is bad’ speeches. This one was talking about how Jedi shouldn’t have friends or family because they get in the way. Well, I balked and so did Kairi. Bastila just flips out and grabs her!” Mission shook her head. “I’m not sure what she was thinking about doing, but Bastila saw me and let go. I don’t get it, Carth. Back on Dantooine, I kept hearing the Jedi say Bastila was on the Light Side. They didn’t worry about her. Kairi and Juhani were the ones they worried about. So, if she’s such a good Jedi, why is she doing this?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll talk to her about it, okay. As for you…” He leaned back in his seat. “I’ve got my own suspicions and a lot of unanswered questions. And extra set of eyes and ears would be helpful.”

“You want me to spy on them?”

“Not so much ‘spy’ as keep an eye open. Last thing I can take is putting you and Kairi in more danger. This assignment’s dangerous enough without being kept in the dark.”


	5. The Dune Sea

**Chapter 4**

**The Dune Sea**

The Czerka gate guard handed them a mining map to the Dune Sea outside Anchorhead when they showed their licenses, and opened the gate with a cynical shrug. With luck, HK-47's translation abilities could prevent a fight. They were still armed; Carth with blasters, Kairi with her saber concealed in a belt holster, and HK-47 with a vile-looking rifle they had taken from a weapons cache aboard the ship. Their light armor wasn't the most comfortable choice, but the desert's dangers overrode those considerations. In case they ran into complications, Bastila would stay behind and take the others after them if they didn’t return in twelve hours.

Even more worrying was the fact that they couldn’t seem to get through to Canderous or Juhani for the past eight hours. Zaalbar had seen them leave together, and while they were an unlikely pair for the buddy system, they were the stoutest fighters of the party. They’d give the pair until morning to return, since it was just as likely they had also stumbled on a good lead. Besides, Bastila and Kairi could sense Juhani through the Force and there was no sign yet she was in danger.

Three kilometers out was a large sandcrawler, a massive machine used for storing heavy mining equipment and the people who used it. It was like a gigantic metal box in the midst of the desert, with Anchorhead barely in the distance. The machine had stopped dead. Three miners were stranded, and Kairi could sense they were not alone.

Kairi could sense them—malice, anger, rage, and intent for blood. She lit her saber. "Carth, your blaster! HK-47, protect!"

A cry, almost animal, swooped down at them from the dunes. A party of nine Sand People charged down the dunes, and the fight was on! The miners went for blaster rifles as their captain huddled them behind a junk pile.

"Here we go, boys. We make our stand here!" He grabbed his rifle, and the others did the same.

Carth started in with the blasters, ducking behind a pile of broken junk near the sandcrawler and sniping at the incoming warriors. HK-47 blasted away with the nasty rifle, or retrieved the frag grenades they loaded into his compartments. The droid had been delighted to get them, and let out a tinny laugh as he pitched them at their attackers. Even the miners took out one or two.

The Sand People were vicious, but their crude gaffi sticks were no match for a lightsaber. Kairi chopped the gaffi stick of one warrior in half, then struck him down as he tried to slash her neck with the broken metal on the top half. A second was killed when he left his torso open during an attack.

The Sand People started another wave, and centered on her as their target. The gaffi sticks sliced several holes through the covering of her armor, but did not penetrate the armorweave. When they had her surrounded, and in such tight quarters she could hardly move, Kairi vaulted up and did a mid air somersault, landing several meters away from her surprised attackers.

“HK, now!”

Faster than a human could, HK-47 vended two grenades into his hand, tossing them with deadly precision. The explosion and shrapnel did the rest.

Two waves of Sand People disposed of, a total of twenty bodies at their feet. Kairi and Carth began the grim work of pulling the robes from the dead raiders.

"What are you doing with those?" the mining captain asked. "Company wants the gaffi sticks."

"We're…here for our own reasons," Carth said, pulling the robes on over his combat suit. "Rescue. What do you know of the attack three days ago?"

"We recovered most of the bodies, man," the captain said. "All human, though. Still a Twi'lek missing. Damned if I know what the Sand People do with them. Eat them for all I bloody know."

Kairi grimaced. "Which way to their enclave?"

"Southwest, past the warning barriers. Though I can't believe Czerka would actually…"

"We're not with Czerka," Kairi pointed out, gesturing to the lightsaber on her belt.

One of the miners looked Kairi over, impressed. “Ain't seen a Jedi wearing armor since the Mandalorian Wars. The good ones put on the same gear as their men.”

“You served?” Kairi asked.

“Heck, yes. Under Li-Bek no less! Say what you will about the guy. He never lacked guts. But...” The miner shook his head. “I got injured at a skirmish just prior to Malachor. By then, I was glad to trade my blaster for a fusion cutter. Came here to try and make an honest living. Damn Sand People – they're worse animals than the Mandalorians.”

The captain nodded to Kairi. "Well, Lady Jedi, with your droid and your man, you can certainly hold your own. We activated the distress call, so a Czerka caravan should be by to retrieve the equipment at least. We'll fortify in the sandcrawler until then. Thank you!"

Carth and Kairi could barely see through the thick layers of robes and tattered bindings that covered all of a Sand Person's flesh. Fortunately, so long as no one got close, they might do all right. The enclave was little more than a pavilion made of bantha hides, held together by poles made of scavenged metal. The door was made from petrified wood. Indeed, this planet had been lush at one point if such an element existed. Hopefully, their disguise would get them close enough…

_"Urrak! Ourkak!_ " Oh, oh. Their disguises were flimsy when met up-close. Kairi could sense astonishment from the guard. Well, at least these people registered empathically. It would do little good unless Yuka Laka's sales pitch proved accurate.

"Interjection: One moment, Master, I believe I understood that. It may not have been his intention, but I believe he did actually communicate something."

"Quickly!" Kairi said. "Tell them we come in peace!"

"Translation: _Ru rah ru rah_!"

The guard seemed puzzled, lowering his gaffi slightly. Kairi's hand left her belt, and she held them upright, gesturing for Carth to do the same. Open hands was a near-universal sign of peaceful intent, and Kairi could only hope that the gesture would be received that way here.

HK-47 turned to her. "Result: I believe we have succeeded in confusing him, master. We have shown interest not common among outsiders.”

"Apologize for the intrusion. We mean them no harm."

"Resignation: I will do as you ask, master, but I have a bad feeling about this.” He turned back to the guard. “Translation: _Gu rah hurak ip ip. Eyaak urk urk_." HK-47 said.

The Sand Person responded, and HK-47 gave a short answer before turning to Kairi. "Translation: He is expressing disbelief…as am I…but his duty requires that we report to the Chieftain. Extrapolation: It would seem that we are at least worthy of curiosity, for the moment. I would much rather this get bloody, Master, but it is your call."

Hidden behind the dunes on his swoop, Calo Nord watched as Carth and Kairi entered the Enclave at gaffi-point. He scowled. Maybe those savages would do the work for him. Still, he had underestimated them before in the Lower City, and underestimated the woman on Davik’s estate. If they ended up food for the local carrion-eaters, it wasn’t going to be his problem.

His comlink chattered. Calo Nord pressed it. “Yes, Jagi.”

“Got Canderous to talk. He says that those two lunatics are hunting for krayt.”

“You got him to talk that quickly, huh?”

“Not hardly. He’s lying, but he never bluffs without putting enough truth in it to cloud the issue.”

“Get the rest of the hired help. We’ll set up near the krayt cave. Maybe there’s more truth to it than he thinks.”

The cantina was closed for a few hours in the early morning so that Junix could calculate the proceeds and wash the glasses. A couple patrons were snoring on the floor where they had passed out the night before.

He rubbed the new credit vouchers over in his hand. Mandalorians were never good for brains, he figured. They'd drink whatever was in front of them. The new guy in town was hardly an exception. Pocketing the credits, he walked over the far corner. Draped in heavy robes, a shape was huddled in the corner. He walked over and kicked it.

"Bar closed. Get up!"

What he thought was a groggy patron threw off the robes and leaped to her feet. He reached in his apron for his hold-out blaster only to have the woman wave her hand and knock him to the floor. Pulling an object from her belt, he heard himself whimper in terror as the scarlet lightsaber blade appeared.

What he awoke was a very grim looking Cathar. Her gold eyes narrowed. "I saw you talking with him – right before he vanished. I also saw the vial you tried to hide in your vest."

"S…saw…?"

"Canderous Ordo—a Mandalorian. He was here. I am looking for him." The harshness of her thickly accented Basic added more intimidation to her already lethal-looking presence.

"Underground…the tunnels…they'll…they'll kill me if…"

"Would you rather take your chances with me?" She lowered the blade, and it was dangerously close to his neck.

"Keycard is behind the bar…d…don't hurt me…"

Juhani powered off the saber and marched behind the bar, snatching the keycard. She glowered at Junix. "Go, get out of here before I do what I will regret."

He did so quickly.

Stripped of their stolen robes, and relieved of their weapons, Kairi and Carth were marched into the Enclave's center. The Chieftain was dressed in slightly fancier robes, bits of metal salvaged from the desert (or the corpses of unlucky intruders) fashioned into talismans or sewn into his headscarves. Though she could not understand his words, his tone and his contempt were obvious; they were outsiders, invaders, and while he was curious as to their intent, he also despised their mere presence.

"Translation," HK-47 began. "He is demanding to know why he should let us survive this encounter, master."

"Tell him we wish a peaceful solution to the attacks on his people."

HK-47 made a series of noises that sounded more like broken gears and growls than actual language. The noises were familiar. The ancient droid in the Dantooine ruins had spoken this dialect.

"Translation: He claims he has no reason to believe you, master. Your kind taint this land with machines and your uncaring, ignorant feet. He requires proof of your good faith. We must make a contribution to his people to show we are not a threat.” HK-47's head did a jerky pivot. “Query: May I blast him now, master?"

"We're outnumbered and outgunned at the moment, so not yet. Ask him what he would like as an offering."

HK-47 translated this, and the chieftain gave his answer.

"Translation: He wants to move his people far from Anchorhead, but they have not built up sufficient stores of water. He says you must aid him. He wants moisture vaporators from the Czerka. If you deliver them, he will reduce his attacks on the miners and will leave this area soon."

It sounded simple enough. Moisture evaporators, basic ones, could be purchased with three rounds of Pazaak. "HK-47, tell the chief he has a deal. We will get him the vaporators."

Again, HK-47 spoke Kairi's wishes, the Chieftain responded, but Kairi felt almost comic dismissal in the chieftain.

"Translation: He does not believe you, but we have amused him. He will return our weapons and escort us from the enclave. If we bring the vaporators with us, we will be allowed to return. He will wait, but he does not believe we will return."

Their escort out could have been worse. They left at gaffi-point, and their weapons were bundled into an old robe and hurled out into the desert. The guards took position, and the humans (and droid) claimed the equipment.

"Guess it's back to Anchorhead," Carth said, inspecting and holstering his blaster. "And I seriously doubt Czerka's stuffed-shirts will want to hear this. Any clue as to where to get the vaporators?"

Kairi smiled. "As a matter of fact…"

* * *

Cathar eyes were more light-sensitive than human ones, and so the Underground City was easy to navigate for her. She also had a natural gift to cloak herself in the Force. It had helped her to avoid the worst of the Tarisian gangs, the ability to not be seen. She somewhat disliked it now, as it reminded her of why she developed that gift, even untrained.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to picture Canderous, tried to sense where that arrogant fool was. There was a part of her, the part of her that burned with ill-treatment and those many injustices through her years, that questioned why she pursued at all. After all, he would not do the same for her.

_There is no passion…there is serenity…there is no conflict, there is harmony…_

If she would turn her back on someone in danger, could she truly call herself a Jedi? No, she would help him. There would be no other choice. This crumbling slum reminded her dangerously of the sunless place her parents had fled to when they could run no further. Living on scraps and digging in darkness, doing backbreaking work for the lowest pay while the human nobility lorded their wealth over them or spat on them for being "lesser creatures."

_There is no emotion…there is peace…_

If she let herself be distracted, there would be no way to find him. She turned a corner when she noticed some light coming from the edge of a short tunnel. She looked in the doorway and saw an unsteady Canderous being shoved into the back of a landspeeder. It was obvious, even from here, that he had been drugged, his movements shuffling. His legs and arms were in chains and he was blindfolded. There were four Mandalorians other than Canderous. Their apparent leader was a Mandalorian with long, scraggly gray hair and an eyepatch. Six Rodians, obviously bounty hunters, were also present.

"I’ll take care of him," said the gray-haired man, hopping onto a swoop. “Torragar, follow in the speeder. The rest of you – meet me at the krayt cave. Calo Nord wants one of those Jedi captured if possible – the others we kill. Got it?”

While the others were listening to their leader’s plans, Juhani sneaked past them, climbing in the cargo hatch of the speeder holding Canderous undetected. The hunters split up among their four landspeeders and made for the Eastern Dune Sea.

* * *

They found the vaporators at Bracon’s shop. The Duros had laughed when he heard of their plan, a grinding hum that echoed off the stucco walls. _< <“Just the kind of appeasement Czerka would never agree to. I like you, Jedi. I have a set here. Czerka threw them out rather than bother with repairs. They’ve been waiting for a buyer.”>>_ Bracon sold the vaporators to them at cost – 200 credits.

Re-approaching the Sand Person Enclave, the guard greeted them with disgust and a barrage of what could have been questions or threats—maybe both. HK-47 swiveled his metal head. "Extrapolation: This guard doesn't appear honored to have the job of greeting us."

"Tell him we bring the moisture converters as an offering to his chief."

HK-47 translated in turn, and the guard's reaction turned to surprise. When Kairi and Carth held up the devices, Kairi could feel puzzlement from the guard as he spoke once more to HK-47.

"Translation: He is stunned by this, but his duty does require him to take us to his chieftain."

When Kairi and Carth held out the vaporators, she sensed astonished pleasure from him. His advisers gasped, and started muttering among themselves in their guttural tongue.

"Translation: He had left you alive as an amusement, master. He had not expected you to keep your word. He says outsiders are incapable of such. But since you have proven honorable, he shall keep his word and stop the attacks, giving you his gaffi as peace offering to your kind."

"You may tell him I am honored."

HK-47 translated once more and turned to Kairi. "Statement: Surely we can use this opportunity to catch them off guard and destroy these primitives easily."

"Still to many of them and too few of us. That idea is both wasteful and foolish. I'd like to ask him some questions, however."

"Protocol: If you want this sadly peaceful arrangement to continue, be careful what you ask."

“Ask him about relics in the desert; the Map in particular.”

A barrage of grunting and growling followed. HK-47 swiveled his red metal head to her. “Statement: They know of what you speak, and have given me directions to it. They say that a strange piece of outsider technology is being guarded by a krayt dragon and has been for several years.”

“So much for this being easy,” Carth said.

Kairi shrugged. "Well, my only other question—ask them about the captive Jawas and an outsider named Griff."

Another exchange of growls and grunts followed. "Translation: The Jawas have outlived their usefulness and are free to go. As for this 'Griff,' he says that his mere presence is an insult, a defilement of their home and land. The other two Czerka prisoners died of heat exhaustion, but he survives despite his uselessness. Extrapolation: It is doubtful they would waste the effort to kill him. Shall we do it ourselves, master?"

Kairi sighed. "That would be Mission's call, not mine. Tell him farewell and we will leave peacefully."

Two warriors escorted them to the holding pens. The first holding pen held six captive Jawas. They freed the Jawas first, instructing them to go to Anchorhead and find Iziz.

In the second, a blue-skinned Twi'lek in worker's coveralls looked up at them as they walked in. “Uh…I’m a bigshot with Czerka. A very high-ranking executive. You’ll be rewarded greatly if you free me!”

Kairi tried not to laugh with contempt. Carth folded his arms and shook his head in disgust.

"Griff Vao, I presume," Kairi said. "Your sister travels with me. She has questions for you, I'm certain."

"She's…she's alive? When I heard about Taris, I thought the worst. Come on, humans, please get me out of here!"

Carth strode forward and grabbed his arm. "The Sand People can't be bothered killing you, so I guess you're free to go. You can find your way to Anchorhead from here?"

"What? No speeder escort?"

Kairi could have sworn HK-47 was smiling. "Mission's call, HK…"


	6. Dust

The blindfold was taken off again and the implant was fighting off the last of the drug’s effect. His hands were cuffed, his legs put in irons, and he was standing in a sea of desert sand in the middle of the night. A few meters away, Jagi leaned on his swoop's cowling.

"I'd just as soon shoot you, but your cowardice is best punished by the desert. No weapons, put in chains, and you haven't a clue where you are. If you're lucky, the Sand People will find you.” Jagi stared Canderous in the eye. “I rotted in that Altheri dungeon for two years until Revan's army came for the planet. They freed me, but it was too late by the time to return to the fighting. Now, I live this half-life, my people a shell of what they once were." He spat on the ground. "Betrayed, imprisoned, and denied the chance to face a warrior's death—all because of you!"

"I seized the opportunity of battle, and brought it to a swift end,” Canderous argued. “In defying those orders, our forces were able to crush the Altheri at the cost of fewer lives than the battle plan predicted. It was not glory! It was the very code of our clans. You may be willing to blame me, Jagi. But are you willing also to defy the words of Mandalore?"

Jagi looked like he was about to say something, then halted. He shook his head to clear the doubt. "You can't use words to escape this, Canderous."

Jumping on his swoop, he sped off.

They contacted Bastila and told her to meet them before daybreak. She hurried to catch up to the gates, showing her license to the guard and being waved through. She stared out onto the vast sea of dunes as the first sun started to rise, concentrating on the Force to find where Kairi was. She hadn’t gone far past the gates when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Bastila whirled around.

People did not merely “sneak up” on Force adepts – ordinary people, anyway. She was facing a yellow-skinned Twi'lek of indeterminate age. Bastila gasped from the surprise and the realization of just how he had been able to approach. This man was attuned to the Force. Not quite the way the Jedi were, but still woven tightly within its web.

“Stories are being told of a Jedi who talks to the People of Sand,” he said in halting Basic. “Would you happen to be that Jedi?”

“Who are you?” Bastila asked.

“Komad Fortuna,” he said.

“I’ve heard you are a hunter…” Bastila wanted to ask several questions, but Komad was ahead of her.

"I have been hunting here perhaps a decade or two. There is day, there is night. I am not confined by time anymore." He examined Bastila’s face for a moment before saying more. "I recognize your features. Your father's line throws true. Shan was a fine hunter, lost to the krayt not far from here. He returns to the land, as hunters should."

“You…you know…then…”

"Must be important things in the desert for the Jedi to send you. Don't tell me what it is because I won't care. I listened to the Jawas. They trade stories like any other treasure. Several of them have been freed from the Sand People, but the Sand People are not dead. I wish to ask how this was possible."

“Well,” Bastila answered. “I’m not the Jedi who negotiated with the locals, if that’s why you’re asking about. But I do know her.”

“Bastila!” Carth’s voice.

Over the dunes, he walked ahead, Kairi and HK-47 bringing up the rear. They walked up to Komad.

“Mr. Fortuna,” Bastila said. “Meet Kairi and Carth. They were the ones who negotiated with the Sand People. How did it go, by the way?”

“We’re still alive,” Carth said. “And it looks like the Sand People are going to benefit from this deal, too.”

Komad was impressed. “You understand the natural ways of things."

"We're looking for an artifact in the krayt dragon cave.” Kairi asked. “From what I was able to gather from the lodge gossip, I take it you are looking for the krayt dragon itself?"

“The krayt feeds on bantha and foolish hunters. It is coming out of hibernation, and it is hungry. I have a plan to destroy it, but cannot act alone." He sighed, "It is a shame to kill such a magnificent beast, but it is too large, and too close to Anchorhead. It is wiping out the herds of bantha. It will starve eventually, but not before damaging the Sand People and settlers who use the bantha."

"We've a map to its lair," Kairi said. "You can tell us the plan on the way."

"Very good. We will set off while it is morning, before the high suns will be worst."

* * *

Several hours’ journey later with the directions from HK-47 to guide them, they stood in the middle of the Eastern Dune Sea several dunes away from the cave entrance. The twin suns were getting high and the temperature was like standing in a crematorium.

Fortuna explained as he checked the equipment. "I have tried other hunters, but they lacked skill and patience. When I heard Jedi were here, I did not think much of it. They would not involve themselves with the cycles on Tatooine. But then I heard you walked with the People of the Sand. The story was enough to make me think that I should seek you out.”

“So, what's the plan?” Kairi asked.

“We must use unorthodox methods to kill him, for it is the biggest krayt I have seen in my time, bigger than the one my father hunted. I will place mines around the cave entrance, but I will need you to provide the bait. It will require much to rouse the beast from its slumber."

"We're the bait?" Carth asked.

"No, human!" Fortuna laughed. "Take my sack of bantha fodder." He pointed to a herd standing a fair distance away. "To lure him out, we must bring him food to tempt him. Bait the bantha here, and the mines will take care of the rest. Not exactly a glorious hunt, but it will bring balance to this region."

Fortuna set to the cave entrance, and the three of them set out to the herd. The shaggy beasts perked up at the smell of food and started to fall in step. Carth waved his hand in front of his face. "Man, I've smelled three-day corpses better than these! Hope that guy's idea works…"

“Query: If it does not, then may I blast him, Master?”

“We'll have bigger problems to deal with if this fails, HK. Behave yourself until then,” Kairi said.

The twin suns were high overhead now, and Canderous's throat was starting to go raw. He silently cursed Jagi as he continued.

A guttral cry echoed through the desert. Standing on a close ridge, a trio of Sand People called a war cry and hurtled towards him. Confined by his chains, Canderous still attempted fighting stance, but was certain that this would be his last stand.

Locking his hands together, he swung and struck one of his attackers. It knocked the creature back, but the other two were not deterred. One swung his gaffi, gashing Canderous across his back and knocking him to the sand. He rolled with the blow, and the implant was starting to work, but this was a nasty wound, and the hot sand was not helping. It stretched even his considerable pain tolerance.

As he looked up, he saw the third raider with the serrated metal point of the gaffi aimed at his heart. It was too late to move! The point plunged to his chest.

And halted millimeters from its target. The demonic face registered shock before Canderous took advantage, grabbing the stick and wrenching it from the hands that were about to slay him. Armed was definitely better than unarmed! A strong blow broke open the chains binding his legs, and he jumped to his feet.

Juhani was a short distance away, her lightsaber dancing as she ducked and dodged the blows of three other attackers. She knocked them back and started heading for Canderous. One of them had resisted her Force Push and closed in on her.

Canderous knocked her out of the way. Carried forward on his own momentum, her would-be killer impaled himself on Canderous's appropriated gaffi stick. He yanked it out, and the warrior fell to the sand.

With a wave of her hand, the iron cuffs fell off Canderous's wrists and ankles. He and Juhani maneuvered so they were back to back, giving no quarter to their attackers. Slashing and blocking, they forced their attackers back, and dropped them to the sands.

When no more came, Canderous doubled over. That last fight added several more wounds to the one on his side, sending his regenerative implant into overdrive.

Juhani walked up to him, grabbed his shoulder, and turned him around to inspect the wound on his back. She muttered something and Canderous felt a flash of pain, like someone was ripping skin from his wounded back. When the pain passed, he looked over his shoulder to find the gash on his back knitting quicker than it would have from his implant alone.

Juhani pulled her hand away. "Next time, you will not be so foolish, or you will be dead. Understood?"

"You were following me?"

"Someone had to," she said. “Kairi’s command – no one is to go alone. Now you see why.”

"I…I…" Damned if he knew what to say at this point. "You fight well."

"Come, I will get you back to the ship."

"No. We need to go further into the desert," Canderous told her. "Calo Nord was behind this, and he's going to get the drop on Kairi's party unless we catch up to him."

She gestured for him to follow, and led him to a parked speeder.

"Where did -"

“The bounty hunter that tried to kill me earlier will no longer need it."

Canderous raised his eyebrows. "Good work, Cathar. Let's be off, then. Do you know which way?”

Juhani nodded. "I…I can sense Bastila and Kairi. They are not far."

* * *

They coaxed the bantha within a few meters of the cave entrance. The ground began to shake and Fortuna's eyes lit up. "Oh, boy! VERY big!"

The dragon was a creature the size of a small battleship, thick leathery hide and teeth a meter long. Kairi gasped in awe at the power in it. It crossed one set of mines. Explosions rattled the ground and deafened the party. The dragon howled in rage and stepped forward to attack, stepping on the second set of mines. With a bellow of pain and the deafening roar of plasma discharge, the dragon crashed to the sands and expired.

Fortuna looked sad as he ran his hand over the beast's head. "It is done. The great beast is dead. To my shame, I denied him a good fight, but I will honor his memory to make amends." He looked up. "I thank you, humans. Perhaps one day, you will view the hunt with the reverence that I do. Wealth fades; the sands remain."

With a large vibroblade, and a muttered prayer, Fortuna slit open the dragon's throat, fishing out four pearls. Two he kept, and two he presented to Kairi.

"I thank you for your help today. I will see you again, I am sure."

With those words, he walked off into the desert, fading into the dunes as though he were a part of them.

The former lair was impressive indeed. It was the buried remains of a great temple, a circular central gathering room that had once been over a hundred meters high and painted with details murals and frescos that time and sand eroded into faint traces of pigment. Toppled columns and wind-worn statues with no features, only a vague humanoid shape with an oval head. Like on Dantooine, there was a Star Map, the tripod on tripod design. Kairi walked forward and touched it, watching it flower into a similar pattern as before.

"Okay," Carth said, downloading the information into his datapad. "Two down. This fills in a few of the missing hyperspace coordinates. Same planets are lit. Guess they've got more pieces." He shook his head as he cross-referenced the data with known star charts. "Anyone else think finding this Star Map in the back of a krayt dragon cave wasn't a coincidence?"

Bastila started searching the rest of the cave. "The Star Map is a powerful artifact of the Dark Side. The krayt dragon may have been drawn here by its power, only to be enslaved by…" Her voice cut off. She knelt by a tattered equipment pack, pulling out an object the size of a handball. She hung her head.

"What is it?" Kairi asked.

She turned and showed them. The object was a datacron, a dodecahedron object of metal and synthetic crystal. Inside, was a picture of a middle-aged man. His recorded voice played the final entry. "Quannot's Syndrome is what Helena has. She and I know it's just a matter of time. I'm not even certain she's taking her medication as is, but I have to give her hope. I have to try. A single krayt pearl would be enough for her to be in comfort the rest of her days."

Bastila looked up at Kairi and Carth mournfully, tears starting to well in her eyes.

"As for news…The Jedi may forbid it, but I've heard news of Bastila. One of the guys with me on this run was a Republic soldier, just left the fleet. He's heard of her, and tells me she is a powerful Jedi now…looks a lot like her mother, too, if I heard him right. She's given them a lot of hope…Maybe…maybe we'll all be together someday…"

Bastila slumped over. Kairi's own body felt the blow of grief. She tried to go Bastila's side, offer something in the way of comfort, but Bastila knocked her hand away. _There is no love- there is loss._

Bastila was whispering the Code to herself as she stood up rigidly and put the holocron in her pocket. "Come," she said, her voice on the finest edge before cracking. "There's work to be done."

"Yeah," Carth said. "We should probably be going. I'm guessing there's not much else on this planet."

“EMERGENCY!” shouted HK-47. It was followed by the sickening blast of an ion grenade, which incapacitated the droid, sending it into spasms as it fell.

“Nothing, that is, aside from a few more bodies in the sand.” The chilling monotone made their hair stand on edge. Turning around, they found themselves facing none other than Calo Nord, backed up by six armed Rodians, and three more armed humans with Mandalorian tattoos on their arms. Two swoops and two landspeeders also served to block their escape.

"I've got to give you credit…you led me on quite the chase, but in the end, no one gets away from Calo Nord."

"Look, who's paying you?" Kairi asked.

"Ain't in it for the credits, especially you, lady. You and Canderous tried to leave me rotting on Taris. You two are the only ones who've ever gotten away from me, and I've a reputation to protect. The Sith won't be saving you this time…" He turned to his thugs. "C'mon, boys – show time!"

Before they could start firing, the battle cries rang out from behind them.

"For the Order!"

"For Mandalore!"

The landspeeder blasted through Calo Nord's forces, sending them diving for cover. Standing on top of the fast-moving hovercraft were Juhani and Canderous.

Canderous cut the power. While the craft was under its own momentum, he and Juhani leaped off in the middle of the melee. The gaffi stick was crude, but wonderfully effective in sending the enemy scattering.

In the middle of the brawl was Jagi. Canderous broke from them, rushing for his kinsman.

Jagi's jaw was almost scraping sand. "You? How did you escape?"

"I had some help."

Jagi pulled a vibrosword. "We settle this our way."

They chased each other a fair distance from the rest. The short blades forced them to circle one another, swiping and slashing, then backing off only to circle and repeat the pattern. Canderous cracked his gaffi stick hard against Jagi’s side, hearing the snap of ribs. Another strike managed to gash open Jagi’s arm.

Jagi started backing up and took another swipe at him before scrambling towards the landspeeders. That dog was about to flee a battle he started! Canderous went to follow when there was an explosion and a cry from the main part of the brawl. Canderous knocked Jagi back and saw what had happened out the corner of his eye. They’d managed to divide the party, and they were still badly outnumbered.

They needed his help. Vengeance would have to wait.

“I’ll be back for you later,” Canderous grumbled before heading into the fracas.

The odds were a little better then he thought – but still bad. One of the Mandalorians was dead, as were three of the Rodians. Calo Nord had tossed a concussion grenade. They didn’t do anything in the way of damage, aside from bewilder and stun the opposition, leaving them easy prey. Already. Carth and Juhani had been hit with the brunt of it while Kairi and Bastila were also trying to fight through the effects.

Canderous took another thug Calo had hired. Jumping on him from behind, he impaled him on the gaffi stick, then yanked it out and started looking for Calo Nord.

Calo Nord's armor was damaged, and his favored heavy pistols ran out of ammunition. Sensing that that this ambush had turned decidedly against his favor, he hopped on the swoop. The small, dark-haired Jedi – Kairi—called to the others and jumped onto Jagi’s swoop. Off they went into the desert.

Calo cursed and reloaded his blasters as he tried to navigate. Of course, he'd raced swoops, but it had been years since he had to. He let off a couple shots, but missed due to the bad angles.

He hit the gears up to third, the desert starting to become a blur. At least the Jedi would have trouble using a lightsaber on a moving target. He turned the speeder and started heading for Anchorhead. Hopefully, the desert or the Sand People could thin their numbers while he regrouped and put together another trap.

_What the -_ _?_

That woman was gaining on him. He swore furiously as he remembered she was also the champion swoop racer of Taris. She was coming at him from the side and trying to ram him. Was she crazy? He headed for a narrow canyon, veering off sharply. Her swoop passed his at a perpendicular angle and kept going. He laughed and shifted up to put more distance between his swoop and hers.

Right after he up-shifted, he stopped laughing. He was headed right for a cliff! Calo tried to turn, but the swoop was faster than his reflexes. At top speed, it slammed into the cliff several meters from the ground. The explosion could be heard in Anchorhead. Fire belched from the scene, and there was nary a trace of Calo Nord or his swoop afterward.

A gigantic, black crater persists to this day in the middle of the cliff, a landmark for the locals who refer to it only as "Fool's Pass.”

Kairi applied the brakes to her swoop and swung it around to see HK-47 leaning on the shoulders of two Sand People. Unfortunately, it appeared as though the entire tribe was behind them, surrounding the party.

She got off the swoop, fearing the worst. “HK…”

“Assurance: I am not permanently damaged, Master, though I will require some work when we get back to the ship to regain full functionality. In the meantime, the Sand People are astonished with your skill and bravery. It would seem that Calo Nord's deceased assistance were Czerka bounty hunters that have attacked and killed many of their warriors and sacred animals. They also witnessed the help you gave Komad Fortuna with the krayt dragon.”

Out of the crowd came the Chieftain, walking right up to Kairi. He addressed her and his people.

"Translation: You have destroyed Czerka's hunters, successfully killed a krayt dragon, and brought them a gift of water. They believe you must be some kind of benevolent desert spirit in the guise of an Outsider. Query: Shall I encourage this belief, Master?"

"Uh…no, thanks."

The chieftain made another announcement to her.

"Translation: Because of your actions, you will be presented their highest honor – an audience with their Storyteller."

Under the cloudless, starry sky of the Tatooine night, and the torches of the Sand People's enclave, they were presented to the Storyteller. Compared to the others, the Storyteller appeared to be a calm, quiet man. Flanked by two warriors, he nodded for Kairi and her party to sit (HK-47 sitting next to her).

The Storyteller began to speak, making the grinding and harsh sounds of the tribal language sound almost beautiful.

"Translation: There is only one accepted history, passed orally to each generation. To record it as an Outsider would—on paper or machine—it to cheapen its value, for objects can always be taken away. To commit it to memory it to keep it with the people."

"I understand."

"Translation: In the ancient times, there were no Sand People, for there was not sand. The land was green with life and they walked without wrappings. Though the land was beautiful, they lived apart from it. They built their walls high and saw beyond the horizon. They dared to reach the stars. There are no words for how long ago this was. Before the Outsiders, before the abduction, before the cities fell, before the Builders…"

_Builders_ , Kairi thought. _The same as the ones in the Dantooine ruins. Of course, the Star Map proved they were here, but what was their connection to the Sand People?_

"Translation: the arrogant people touched the stars, and this sin drew the attention of the Builders. The Builders did not touch the stars; they lashed them to millstones. Great demons of metal stripped the world of its riches until all that was left was the green of the ground. The great cities were lifted away. Those who had used the wealth were taken along with it; transgressors abducted to serve past the sky, seeding the stars with penitent, adaptable slaves."

_A predecessor race, far more powerful than even our current fleets, welding the Force to their machines..._ The idea was so thrilling. Imagine the possibilities, the potential, the _perfection_! Kairi shoved her hand into the hot sand to pull herself away from the thought. Perfection was glass – beautiful to gaze upon but could never be touched, lest it shatter. Transitory and never lasting, eventually eroding back to the sand it came from. It could never be real.

"Translation: there came a time when the Builders were also judged for their crimes. After generations, a plague weakened them, and the time of the Great War began. The Builders faltered, and his people realized why they had been punished: so that they understood the crime, and would now strike down the greater offender. They worked chaos into the machines so they destroyed themselves."

Kairi repeated the words to herself silently. So, this HAD been more than a desert. The people were just discovering hyperspace travel. Then the Builders came and stripped the planet while enslaving the people, only to find themselves stricken with plague. The slaves took their revenge and revolted.

"Translation: the Builders fought back, laying waste to the green that had been misused with fire from above. Soil became glass, grinding to sand, but the fight was long-planned and his people were safe. Deep in cave-homes carved from valley wall, they were free. The tribes spread far, distant from each other, but all as Sand People, and all cherished the land that remained. The sand would not be misused."

"Interesting," Juhani said. "But it seems the way of slavers to eventually find the chain about their own necks."

"Translation: Then, machines fell from the stars again. Outsiders, like you, that brazenly walked apart from the land. And greater still was the insult to come. These outsiders reminded them of their past transgressions; of the time when they too walked apart from the land. The Outsiders—your kind—look like their ancient abducted."

" _Kandosii!_ " Canderous gasped. "He has no idea what he is saying."

"I think he does," Carth answered. "No one really knows where humans came from. No history, no evolutionary records, almost no surviving written records from before the Republic's founding. There’s all the near-human species scattered across the galaxy, and plenty of evidence that someone tampered with the gene pool."

"Translation: so it is, to the current suns, that the Sand People hate all Outsiders and give them no footing. You come again, time after time, adaptable slaves to the machine."

_That confirms the theory of a great Empire pre-dating the Republic,_ Kairi thought. _What else will we learn about the Builders, I wonder…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, as I was doing the detail work on this chapter, I did have the Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome soundtrack going. Had the right feel. Auntie is the kind of "pragmatic and ruthless" type I saw Revan (especially an F!Revan) being. 
> 
> As far as that universe? I totally headcanon that Immortan Joe TRIED (emphasis on TRIED) to mess with Bartertown. Auntie Entity had ZERO tolerance for Joe's bullshit, led the defense of her town, and added some chrome plated skulls - mirror shine - as decoration about Bartertown as a reminder of why Auntie is not to be toyed with.


	7. Settlement

It would seem like all the Jawas of Anchorhead were paying respect to Kairi as she walked the dusty streets, bowing or offering trade. Iziz marched up to her, surrounded by the six Jawas she had freed from the Sand People. They traded the salvage from Calo Nord’s party for a goodly stack of credits, probably less than the equipment was worth, but they were just glad to be rid of it. When the trade was completed, the rest of the Jawas scattered, but Iziz stayed.

_< <"You, Giant. A great deed has been done for the tribe that is mine. We trade well for this.”>>_ Iziz presented her with a sack of crystals. All of them were stunning in their quality, but a beautiful violet one particularly got her attention. _< <“Iziz of Jawa thank you once more! We sing about you as we dig you.">>_

“Thank you, Iziz,” Kairi said. “May the Force be with you.”

_< <“May the…?”>>_ The Jawa did not understand the words, but understood the intent. _< <“And good trading to you!”>>_

* * *

“The Chieftain’s gaffi.” The Czerka representative turned it over in her hands. “I don’t know what to say. This has been great news for everyone. They’ll be quieter – maybe they’ll break camp and move away soon. In either case, I guess we can reduce the bounty policy. Too many people getting killed on the dunes anyway.”

Kairi kept silent. The Czerka rep needn’t know that she’d struck a deal with the Sand People. The less she knew, the more likely it would be that she would simply mistake the lessening of attacks and the moving of the tribe to be the result of their hunters, and that would play to Czerka’s inflated sense of superiority.

Overall, a satisfactory outcome. She still had one last query to make, though. She turned and went into Czerka’s company store, and asked the clerk on duty whether Griff had been seen.

"Griff? Yes, he left a few hours ago. He tried to hit me up for credits. Said he was taking the next ship to…to anywhere really. He owed the wrong people gambling debt, it would seem."

Kairi sighed. Somehow, it figured. Noble acts were too often futile ones.

"One last thing. He said he was going to find his sister before he left.”

* * *

Mission’s head-tails were still in bandages, and she was wearing a loose-fitting tunic and pants, as tight-fitting clothing would just aggravate the places that were still sore. She was doing repairs in the control room when she heard T3-M4 chirping curiously, a signal someone was outside the ship. Standing up, she checked the monitor for outside the ship's dock and gasped.

"Griff? He's…he's…"

Zaalbar, who had been even more protective than usual, hovered over her. _< <"That's your brother?">>_

"'Fraid so," Mission said. "Come on, Big Z. I always wanted you to meet him."

She was still moving slowly as she walked down the ramp. Griff was waiting there for her. He looked like he'd been blown through a heat-storm, but it was him, and he was alive!

"Uh…" He looked Mission over and blinked. He didn't even recognize her!

Mission folded her arms. “Griff, you chuba-brain! Don’t you even recognize me? Y’know, Mission, your kid sister…the one you ran out on?”

“Oh…uh…Mission! It _is_ you! Hi, sis…Wow, you…"

"The bandages on my head-tails? Those'll heal, Griff, but…" Her voice grew heavy and she walked up to him. She wanted to hug him, but found she really couldn’t – not until she knew the truth. She settled for grasping his arms. "Griff, I ran into Lena. She said it was your idea to leave me behind. Was…was it?"

“Well, sis…I…” He blushed a bit, and his head-tails crossed behind him in contrition. “As soon as I struck it rich, you know I'd be back for you. I…I just…well…” He tried to change the subject. “You're traveling with a Jedi now?”

“Kairi saved me from Taris, Griff,” she said, pulling her hands away. Now that she knew, she was boiling. Her hands balled up into fists and her eyes stung. That Hutt-slime _did_ abandon her! He left her to die or worse on that rock, and probably hadn’t thought twice about it as he bumbled his way to the next scheme.

"Aw, Mission, cut me a break,” he said apologetically. “Yeah, I left you behind. You could look after yourself. Besides, you’re okay. You’re here, and you look…well.”

Zaalbar's growls and barks were lost on Griff as he came over to Mission’s side, her ever-present backup. Griff gulped as he looked the large Wookiee over from crown to toe.

“Uh…er…Wow! Where’d you get the pet, sis?”

Zaalbar growled again.

“Zaalbar is my best friend, Griff,” she said, stepping back towards Zaalbar. Zaalbar was glowering at Griff, even as he offered a large paw in support. With a shaky smile of thanks, she squeezed it briefly for strength. “After you were gone, he watched my back on Taris. I…I always wanted you to meet him, y’know.”

“That?” He started laughing. “Wow, Mission. How bad did it get after I left for you to fall in with that carpet?”

THAT did it! She stormed up to Griff and lifted her fist, smacking him hard against the jaw. Griff dropped to the sand, rubbing his hurt jaw and trying to form words. Mission shook her hand in front of her. The muscles ached. She took two deep, shaky breaths and forced herself not to scream at him.

“I’ll tell you something, Griff. Yeah, Zaalbar’s big and furry. Yes, sometimes he’s a little shaggy and has bantha breath, but y’know something – he’s never skipped out on someone, he’s never blamed anyone else for his problems, and _he keeps his promises_. As a matter of fact, he kept me honest back on Taris. And unlike you, I know he’s going to watch my back when he says he will.”

“C’mon, sis. You had to admit it was fun and exciting,” he said. “We went everywhere…the world was ours! All we had to do was –“He started to pick himself up, dusting off his battered coveralls.

“Sorry, Griff. Yeah, there were some fun times, but I remember the bad stuff, too. Zaalbar made a promise to Kairi, and well…I’ve made my promise to Zaalbar. I know where they stand…you, I can’t be sure about.”

He was sheepish now, shuffling his feet. “I got passage with this smuggler buddy I know. We could go into business. I've got this foolproof idea. I’ll be just like the good old days on Taris – like nothing ever happened."

Mission shook her head. “That’s your problem. For you, nothing has happened because you don’t learn. For me…for me, too much has happened. Sorry, Griff, but…but you're on your own now.”

Griff had one last appeal. "Sis…I've got my life, but not a credit to my name…I was wondering…”

Zaalbar threw up his large hands and started shouting at him. _< <“You idiot! You fool disrespecting of clan and honor. You abandoned your sister – such things are unheard of among my people. And now you have the audacity to ask her to support you again? You should be humbled and awed at your sibling. She has saved many lives, and now travels with great people on a quest to save many more lives. I would have thought that I would see something of her in you, but I am disappointed.”>>_

“Uh…” Griff stammered. “What did he say?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mission muttered. "Griff, do me a favor," Mission said. "No more schemes, no more running off. In other words, grow up and get a life for a change."

"C'mon, sis. I can’t believe you’re actually turning me down!"

"No, Griff. Maybe back on Taris, I would have, but…not…not anymore."

The last thing Griff saw as he walked away from the dock, head tails, drooping was his baby sister…all grown up. As he left the _Ebon Hawk's_ berth, Kairi walked past him.

Kairi walked up to Mission, watching as Griff trudged away. "I take it you and Griff had your talk?"

Mission closed her eyes. Her voice was bittersweet. “Griff’s in debt and on the run, like usual.” She looked over at Kairi. “Thanks, though. You really helped, even if it doesn’t look it. Now, I know that I at least tried my best with him.” Her voice was close to cracking now, her shoulders shaking with the effort spent to keep from crying. “He did right by me in some ways. But if I had stayed with him, I wouldn’t have much of a future, just a life of running from one bad deal to the next. Maybe I’d end up a cantina wench…or worse…to try and get him out of trouble.”

Kairi hugged Mission loosely as to not aggravate her wounds, but Mission was hugging Kairi tightly as she wept. It was not the happiest of endings, but it was still closure. Completing the picture was Zaalbar, putting his large hands gently on Mission’s shoulders.

“Thanks, you guys, I mean it,” she whispered between sniffles. “For Taris, for this thing with Griff, for everything.”

* * *

“First Kairi, then Carth, now you…” Canderous rubbed his wrists, the memory of the iron chains still fresh. “And Jagi used the opportunity to run off.” He huffed. “Bloody coward.”

“So, you are not going to go charging after him?” Juhani asked.

“I’ll have my chance to break the rest of his bones. He’ll just have to wait for a while.” Canderous made another check of his cannon. Juhani had recovered it from what was left of Jagi’s hideout, but there was no other trace of him. Asking around the Mandalorian Quarter brought no further leads. It was if he decided to vanish into the sands. “In the meantime, I should thank you, Juhani, for saving my hide back there.”

“Not ‘Cathar,’ not ‘Jedi?’”

“Unless you’d rather I call you that,” he said gruffly, using a cloth to remove sand from the barrel. “After Malachor, I got used to fighting alone,” he said. “Damn near got me killed foolishly. I used to beat my soldiers for acting as stupidly as I did.”

“Even the strongest of us is sometimes taken unaware. From what little I understand of your people you had been challenged. You were not expecting your clansman to present a deception, and you also knew we would disapprove of such a duel.” Juhani said. The krayt dragon pearl, once polished, made a powerful enhancement to a lightsaber. She was working on the upgrade as she spoke. “There is no shame in having an equal at your back. That is, if you consider anyone an equal.”

“There will be time enough to settle my debts, I suppose. In the meantime, I’ve better things to do than chase that cur.”

“A question,” Juhani asked, standing up and testing the weight of her lightsaber. “Why do you not hold a grudge against Revan for beating your people?”

“Because Revan was the best, and showed us the flaws in our own tactics. Even Mandalore himself was taken back by the ferocity of the attacks, the tenacity of the defenders, and the subtlety of Revan's plans. After fighting us to a standstill, those forces started pushing back. We really didn't stand a chance. In a way, it was what we wanted all along. We wanted to fight our best in a battle that would be remembered for centuries. And we did.”

Juhani nodded. Canderous might have been imagining it, but he thought that the woman might actually have understood that.

“Though the Council would rather not hear this, I cannot hold a grudge against Revan, either. Revan was corrupted, and her fall was a great tragedy, but I saw the good her forces accomplished as well, the hope that was left in her wake. There shall never be another like her, I think.”

“Indeed there won’t,” Canderous said. “Ah, but wishing for the past to be different is useless. Better to look to the future, as we should now. We'll talk later, I think.”

“I look forward to it…Canderous,” Juhani said before heading back to her and Kairi’s quarters.

* * *

The image of Bastila’s father played before her in the holocron as it sat on the table between them.

“Mother, did you love him?”

“Dearly,” Helena said. “While I am scared of dying, Bastila, I find the thought of joining him brings a certain comfort. I just wish…” She looked up at Bastila morosely.

Bastila covered her mother’s hand with her own. “I know, but that is the way of the Order. Even a Jedi cannot always control the feelings of the heart. We must guard against it, no matter the cost.” Morosely, she looked into her mother’s weary eyes. “I will concur, though, that some sacrifices are more difficult than others.”

“Oh, to the winds with your Order, Bastila. Did you ever know how badly it hurt to give you up?”

“I wasn’t certain it grieved you much at all, frankly,” Bastila admitted. “You seemed very eager, as I recall.”

“Jedi are not the only ones to know sacrifice, dear. All parents know it, too,” Helena said. “Your father wanted to make you into a hunter like him – traveling the space lanes, jumping from one planet to the next. He loved the life and was certain you would love it as well. I…I knew it was no life, Bastila. You needed more than we could give, and I’ll admit that I wasn’t a terribly good mother for you.” Picking up the datacron in her tired fingers, she held it to the light to get a better look at the man inside. “But it was best for you to join the Jedi. They could do so much, and we could do so little. It was the hardest and most terrible decision I made, but I’m proud of you, Bastila. There hasn’t been a day that I’ve not thought about my baby girl, and…”

“Mother…”

“If you want to know the truth, dear? I stopped the treatments after your father…” she shuddered. “Seemed for the best to face the end quickly.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes,” she said. “Hence the local alcohol. It’s not like it will kill me faster than the disease.”

“Surely there’s…”

“No, dear. I’ve made my decision. I’ll be watching you from wherever I’m going – your father and I both. Your friend Kairi told me you’re on a special mission from the Council – that you’ve got a galaxy to save.” She took the datacron in both hands and pressed it into Bastila’s. “This…this talk with you was what I really needed.”

Bastila helped her mother up into her room, and tucked her into the narrow bed. She looked so frail against the worn blanket, cheeks and eyes sunken. Bastila could sense through the Force the truth of her mother’s words – she had only hours to live, a few days at best. Most of that time would be no doubt confined to this bed as an invalid – a picture she would never want to present to anyone. She touched her mother’s forehead and her eyes stung.

Helena’s bony hand took Bastila’s and squeezed gently. “Goodbye, my dear.”

Oh, how she would miss her…and how cheated she felt, despite her earlier words to Kairi. So many wasted years that she could have used to know her mother, and she never had a chance to say farewell to the father she adored, the man who doted on her as a little girl and wanted her to follow his ways…

_There is no death; there is the Force_ …Funny how those words had once brought comfort. Now, they were so very empty.

When she returned to the _Hawk_ , the following day she walked with the same grace, but her eyes were rimmed with red. Her skin was blotchy, and there were still the drying traces of tears on her cheeks. The local authorities were informed and credits paid towards simple burial arrangements. Avoiding any inquiries or sympathy, Bastila returned to the single-bunk quarters she had in the back of the ship, sealing the door and mourning alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Bioware’s characters and plotline, George Lucas’s universe. The adaptation is Allronix’s.
> 
> Dedication: The whole story is for my niece, of course. Wherever did they find you a set of blue head-tails? This chapter is dedicated to Entropy Inc and Chaos Crew, a fine group of SW scoundrels and a finer group of people in reality.


End file.
